


When Everything Changed

by thewritermakingdreamsreality



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, When Everything Changed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:41:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 18
Words: 77,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewritermakingdreamsreality/pseuds/thewritermakingdreamsreality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something inside Bellatrix begins to protest her actions causing her to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Story:** When Everything Changed

**Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

**Rated:** M

**Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.**

**A/N 3: Not the original. Revised and Reposted.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________ **

**Bellatrix’s POV**

In the beginning the Dark Lord needed to recruit a devoted servant; a person who was lacking emotion.  There could not be anything that would cause them to back down. When I left Hogwarts a little less naive, but still eager, I joined his ranks just as my family before me.

I was his most loyal servant; until that night. That night was the beginning of the end.

 

_**  
I attempted to look up at the sky but was overwhelmed by a sense of foreboding as the mist engulfed me and bit at my skin. _

_Rushing to keep up with Narcissa I kept telling her to come back. Not to do what she was so hell bent on doing. If the Dark Lord found out he would be furious. He was already highly disappointed with her family._

_Out of loyalty for my Master I followed her. Not out of love for my sister. Never. It had been a long time, too long, since I felt anything worth feeling. She must obey him. His word was law._

_Finding myself inside the house of a hook nosed, greasy haired main my disdain for him increased._

_Severus Snape._

_Fellow Death Eater._

_Spy._

_I was bewildered to why Cissy would take such great lengths to disobey the Dark Lord. I kept reminding her she should be proud._

_When I came to Snape I believed that the Dark Lord must be mistaken. Somehow he was wrong about this man. Dumbledore’s man. And I let Snape know of my distrust as it laced my every word._

_I could read nothing in those hard, dark eyes creating a sensation of unease in the pit of my stomach, and fueling my suspicions._

_When I stood over them as they made an Unbreakable Vow it happened._

_Snape sneered up at me, challenging me to question his faith now. He could, no doubt, see the disbelief in my expression. However, my reaction was not due to his actions instead to something within myself. My heart had stirred. With a fracture to the icy organ I had felt the impossible: a hint of sympathy._

**  
I continued to carry on with my heartless deeds. Going from being a sadist to caring. I have yet to discover what happened that night.

I continued to pretend that nothing inside of me was changing. When my nephew came home on vacations he was acquiring a gray tinge to his features and losing; though the stress was getting to him he remained proud of the orders he was given. He held his head high, and he tried. I continued to remind him that he had been given the chance to prove himself and that he could not fail.

 Stories of how easy killing was fell from my lips; my words were coated in the excitement of pain etched into innocent faces. I assured him his first kill would leave him craving more.

However, I wasn’t certain that was the case anymore. Something had touched me, and I was untouchable by all that was good. Or at least that is what I thought. Suddenly the pain I lived to cause disgusted me. The thought of it caused my stomach to turn, my skin to burn in guilt, and a lump within my throat.

Still I denied it. Bellatrix Lestrange did possess emotions. Then the night came that erased any inkling of doubt I had about my morphing feelings.

 

_**  
“What is this? What has happened Cissy?” I asked as I glided into the room while putting on an air of chilling confidence. “But surely this is the Mudblood girl?” The word was bitter and filthy as it left my mouth. The vile that I was starting to hate. My belief in blood status was diminishing when it came to the young. The defenseless. I could not control the change. It had taken possession of me and I had to do as it said. Just as the Dark Lord had done to me years ago. He made me change. He made me hate. Torture. Enjoy and believe. “This is Granger?”_

_Nobody knew what was happening. Even if they suspected something I refused to allow them to question me._

_I could see the horror and loathing in those chocolaty depths. I wanted it to stop, but it wouldn’t. Not now that Bellatrix Lestrange had entered the room._

_The looks that used to make me laugh, that gave me a sense of power, now caused ice to seep into my bones._

_The monster inside of me that used to feed off the emotions in her eyes rose halfheartedly._

_As the conversation continued I joined in when my heartless opinion was needed to fill the void. I let out hollow laughs when they were appropriate, but inside I was banging against the bars of my cage. I longed to take the girl away from the evil that weighed down the air surrounding us. But I couldn’t. I was fighting a battle that only I knew about; between what I had known for so long, and what was suddenly making itself present. And the person I used to be couldn’t hold her ground._

_It was necessary I continued to remain loyal to my Master. I needed people to believe I was still trust worthy. It was a matter of my survival.  However, it was even more important that I maintained the security of the darkness that I had lived in for so long. I would rather be murdered by the Dark Lord than feel the weight of my actions. My heart would not listen to my pleas as everyday more of me slipped away into nothingness. Everything I was no longer held meaning._

_“Wait,” I let my tone roll out as sharp and commanding. The person they knew, I knew, was still in the room. Somewhere. “All except…except for the Mudblood.” I forced the last word out in order to remain convincing. They could not know that I cared. Lucius Malfoy would like nothing more than to turn me in to the Dark Lord as a traitor._

_The others turn their backs to me; assured I would do my job. I was the one who tortured, because I was the only one that didn’t suffer from that pesky thing referred to as guilt._

_Fear flooded those young eyes and hints of anticipation danced across her features. Right away I knew she had felt pain, but not the kind of pain she was about to experience. For once I didn’t want to be the one to create that first memory. “Where did you get this sword?” My voice was sharp as it carried throughout the room._

_“We found it,” she replied. Her tone was laced with venom and defiance, but I could see the tears in her eyes._

_“Liar! Crucio!” For the first time I was afraid to cast this Unforgivable Curse. Yet, it was second nature as the stream of red shot out of my wand and hit her chest. She screamed when the magic touched her. I could feel my eyes widen as her she stopped screaming and looked up at me with disbelief. The spell hadn’t affected her. I began to breathe again; I hadn’t realized I had stopped doing so._

_Glancing at the others I ascertained that they were too busy with their conversation to watch me torture Granger. Wordlessly I sent the curse at her again. I watched her tense, but before it even hit her I knew it would have the same affect. She let out a muffled scream while her eyes remained locked with mine. I nodded at her and understanding flashed through her eyes, but was quickly replaced by bewilderment._

_“I will ask you again. Where did you get the sword?” I raised my voice even more as I called upon my previous self to make my actions believable._

_I began to worry that she wouldn’t play along. That Granger would give me away to gain her and her friends an escape. My concerns were eased as she sent me a wink before putting on a pain filled mask. “We found it-we found it-PLEASE!”_

_“You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell me the truth, **tell the truth!** ” With a regretful flick of my wand she screamed on cue. “What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth or I shall run you through with this knife!”_

_Moving closer to her I gazed into her eyes as I ran the steel across her skin watching for signs that I was applying too much pressure; I only wanted to apply enough to make blood trickle. I attempted to comfort her with light touches. For the first time I could feel eyes on my back. She glanced over my shoulder and then began to scream. I gave her a grateful squeeze._

_I could hear the Weasley boy yelling for Granger downstairs and I pitied him. Pity!_

_“What else did you take, what else? ANSWER ME! CRUCIO!” I barely wanted to anymore. When I first learned of our guests in the manor part of me had still wanted to inflict pain. I believed I could still enjoy it. But my eyes landed on the innocent, scared girl waiting to be brought within an inch of life, and I knew that whatever battle I had been waging inside myself, I had momentarily lost._

_I struggled to remain convincing as I kept up the interrogation. I felt relieved when I had a reason to shift my attention from the girl._

_They brought me the Goblin as I requested and now all eyes were on us. Waiting for answers. Waiting to see if they were about to suffer for something that mostly likely had been set into motion long before it was discovered. I felt less with the creature, but I still felt. I shouldn’t have. I should have been cold and indifferent. More than that since I spent fourteen years in Azkaban._

_Suddenly there came a loud crack from the cellar. Apparition. No wizard could do that without a wand. Therefore, it must have been a magical creature. Everyone except me strained their ears for more noise. Finally they decided to send Wormtail down to check on the prisoners._

_The goblin reassured us the sword was a fake. I could have cared less, but acted as if it was a great relief._

_I knew what was next. I had to do it. “And now,” I said struggling to sound pleased. “We call the Dark Lord.”_

_His presence was no longer welcomed in this house. He was destroying my sister’s family. He was commanding me to do things my weakened heart could no longer deal with. Still I called him. Telling myself that this feeling thing was temporary and soon enough I would be back to my insane, heartless self. Once again I would be the Dark Lord’s most loyal servant, which, was all that I wanted._

_Painfully my next words came out. “And I think we can disperse of the Mudblood. Greyback, take her if you want her.” I caught sight of Granger. Paralyzed with fear. Trapped by the ropes connected to my wand. I could see the ease I had created be replaced by the realization that I would not save her; that saving her was never my intention.  I wanted her to know I would not let it happen, could not let it happen, but I had no way of communicating without her without people noticing._

_Thankfully the Weasley boy charged into the room providing a distraction. Saving me from acting upon something I didn’t believe in._

_Or did I?_

_In the confusion that followed Potter and Weasely’s entrance I lost my wand. That was my last concern. I grabbed Granger and when I was certain nobody was looking I whispered in her ear. “Close your eyes and pretend to be unconscious.”_

_“Why?” Her voice was raspy. “Why should I believe you after you almost fed me to Greyback?”_

_“Just do it before I change my mind.” Reluctantly but quickly she followed my instructions._

_As I held the knife to her throat I felt myself shaking. I should have been confident and furious. I propped Granger up with my leg and yelled, “STOP OR SHE DIES!” The commotion came to a halt. I decided there and then that I was going to allow these kids to escape. No matter the repercussions. If I had to lead them out of the house myself I would._

_In that moment all that mattered was their safety; even if I had to return them to the cellar they would be safe. This would give me time to persuade that Dark Lord that we were wrong. I would examine the reason behind my actions later. “Drop your wands,” I whispered to hold their attention. “Drop them or we’ll see exactly how filthy her blood is!” I subtly gave her arm a squeeze. “I said drop them!”_

_And they did._

_Putting on a maniac smile I said, “Good. Draco, pick them up! The Dark Lord is coming Harry Potter! Your death approaches.” I was already searching for a way to mess up Potter’s face again so that I could ‘regretfully’ tell my master we were uncertain of the boy’s identity, and the wand did not match the description he had given us._

_I could sense a new presence in the room as I told Cissy to tie the teenage boys up. A crunching noise came from above me. Looking up the chandelier had come unhooked from the ceiling. I let out a scream and dived out of the way trying to take the Granger with me._

_The chandelier had already smashed down on top of her before I realized what she had done. She had remained beneath the chandelier to create the effect of me pushing her away._

_To save me?_

_I moved closer to the shadows as Granger and Weasley disappeared. I spoke when appropriate, but I was not paying attention to what was leaving my lips. Trusting my brain to create the waste it had been for years. I was too busy trying to grasp the fact that I had just assisted in the escape of the Golden Trio: our number one enemies._

_When it was Potter’s turn to escape I felt I could no longer stand back. Realizing I still had the knife in my hand I threw it in his general direction. I hit Dobby, but Potter escaped._

_I knew the punishment would be worth it. Because I deserved it._

_Still my brain reminded me that seven innocent people just escaped a horrible fate._

_**  
I knocked and waited as relief washed over me that the anonymous message had worked. Worry instantly replaced my relief. What if I changed back as quickly as the initial change? Would I regret coming here?  Would I even be given a moment to speak once my identity was revealed? I assured myself I would because of who I was visiting. It had been a while since I walked down those halls and stood in front of that particular door. I imagined it would look different. I have recently realized things constantly change. Yet, everything appeared to be the same:  at Hogwarts._

_When the door opened I pushed past her. Holding my cloak tightly not to revel myself  until I chose to. My hood shadowed my face and I knew she could not decipher who it was as she peered directly into my eyes without knowing._

_I needed help. I could no longer live on the dark side for reasons I could not comprehend. Not after that girl. Not after Draco. Not after that night._

_She closed the door, and I stared at her from beneath the darkness. Her face was brave and stoic._

_She had a presence that demanded silence and control. How thrilled would she be to know that I had at first copied and then transformed that demeanor into one of my own? Causing me to rise in the ranks of the Death Eaters. Gaining me respect. How proud would she be?_

_It had crushed me to know that she wouldn’t be. There was no way she could be._

_I removed my cloak and strolled across the room draping it on the chair behind her desk. As I had known, horror spread across her face. However, when she spoke her voice radiated with the confidence and control  I remembered. “Mrs. Lestrange.”_

_“Professor McGonagall.” I turned my back to her to put her at ease. To allow her to feel in control. I wanted someone else to be in control for once. I could no longer handle the position._

_I tried to catch a glimpse of what was going on behind the blackness of the windows. Instead I was forced face what I did not want to: my own reflection._

_My appearance repulsed me. I was different but not in a good way. Azkaban had changed me. Life had changed me.  However, there was a hint of warmth in my cold eyes that had escaped them so long ago. It was gone before I had even set foot in this building my first year. I turned around to face Professor McGonagall and discovered her wand was out and pointed straight at my heart. For a moment fear stirred within me, because the most powerful witch of the wizarding world had her wand aimed at my chest. However, instead of backing away I chuckled. To my ears it was a bitter sound._

_I placed my borrowed wand on the desk and moved toward her. Professor McGonagall’s eyes never left me as I circled her before stopping in front of her. Slowly I placed my hand on hers and lowered her wand. “I’m not here to hurt you.”_

_“I don’t believe that.”_

_“You need to.”_

_She clenched her jaw, “You need to leave my office before certain people are informed of your whereabouts.”_

_“No.” My hand tightened around hers. Our faces were inches apart as I attempted to convey why I was there through my eyes. Praying she would be able to see it. “I need you to remember, Professor.”_

_Professor McGonagall squared her shoulders, “There is not a single day I have forgotten. However, that changes nothing and you need to leave.”_

_“You have to listen to me.”_

_“Get. Out.”_

_“Listen to me!” My other hand wrapped around her wrist and I pulled her closer to me. “I have information for you. You need me.”_

_“I certainly do not need you, Madame Lestrange.”_

_“Bellatrix. Call me Bellatrix.” My eyes fled from hers and wandered the room. I took a deep breath, “You might believe you don’t need me, but I need you.” My eyes found her widened ones again. “I need you,” I repeated in a whisper. Dropping her wrist I backed away. “But obviously that no longer means anything to you. So I will go.”_

_“Don’t.” Her hand on my arm caused me to flinch and she withdrew. “Against my better judgment I want to know what you have to say.” I nodded. “However, before you begin let us move into my living quarters. It is rather chilly out here.”_

_She motioned for me to sit, but I waited until she was perched on the edge of the couch before I decided to sit on the table in front of it._

_I noticed her glance at her wand and then reluctantly to a spot on the table beside to me. “Keep it close. I understand.” She raised an eyebrow and nodded at me, her shoulders slouched: just barely, but I saw it._

_I surveyed my previous  Professor in her tartan night gown. Her hair was grayer than I remembered and life was starting to leave lines on her face. “I know what I have to say will sound ridiculous, but I promise I am being honest.”  I felt like a teenager again as her eyes searched me._

_Even with the fire roaring and the faint smell of parchment hanging in the air I felt unsettled. Shifting I forced myself to meet Professor McGonagall’s wary eyes._

_“I have done horrible things to many people; including you, and for that I am sorry. I didn’t deserve your kindness. I don’t deserve the time you are giving me now but I appreciate it. The reason I came to you tonight is,” I lowered my voice to a whisper, “I do not think I can continue serving the Dark Lord. In exchange for your help I have information for you regarding Harry Potter and the Dark Lord.”_

_“What exactly is it that you want from me?”_

_“A way out.” Silence descended upon us. It was heavy: filled with unanswered questions and memories._

_“Why have you come to me? Why should I help you?”_

_I knew this would not be easy, but I was taken aback by the fact that she even had to ask those questions. “This must seem like a crazy plan to get closer to the Order to you.”_

_“I have to admit, it’s rather odd.” I felt a smile tug at the corners of my lips. I almost missed how something in Professor McGonagall’s eyes shift._

_Leaning in closer to her I grabbed her hand. She glanced down at my hand over hers, but did not pull away. I took comfort in the fact that if Professor McGonagall had wanted to kill me she would have already, as I formed the words that need to come out in my mind. “I’m not Bellatrix Lestrange anymore. Not the one that has terrorized this world for almost 30 years. I wish I still was, but I’m not. My word does not mean much, and not many people would testify to my good deeds. There is one person… I need you to believe me. Please.” I can fell decades’ worth of unshed tears welling in my eyes due to the fact that I might have lost the one person I ever cared about: and there was nobody to blame but myself._

_“Bellatrix, please look at me.” She squeezed my hand giving me the courage to face her with tears in my eyes. “Why did you come to me?”_

_“You are in the Order.” I stared into her eyes not wanting to acknowledge what I needed to say. I could tell she was waiting for more of an explanation. “I respect you.” The corners of her lips twitched._

_“I know that’s not all.”_

_“I had hoped you would remember who I used to be.”_

_“You said there is already someone who would testify to the change in your behavior.”_

_I nodded as I continued to fight back the tears building in my eyes. I was having a hard time breathing around the lump in my throat. I could sense that Professor McGonagall knew what was going on inside of me, but chose to remain silent. Yet, I could feel her support and I tightened my grip on her hand as the first tears began to fall._

_“Hermione Granger.”_

_The expression on her face changed immediately. “Hermione! Is she all right? What happened?”_

_I told her everything about the events of the night three days before. Absolutely everything: the battle that was going through my mind, how I tried to help the teenagers without being detected. By the time I had finished I was up and standing in front of the fire. Tears streamed down my face as I forced my shoulders to remain steady and my sobs silent._

_I could sense her presence behind me. She placed her hand on my arm and I quickly wiped the tears from my face, but it was pointless because they instantly returned. “Bella, look at me.” My heart jumped at her words. I followed her request._

_As her fingers grazed my cheek I flinched. “I’m not going to hurt you.” Her fingers were warm as she caught my tears. My eyes locked with hers as I allowed her to search them to find what she was looking for. “I’m not going to hurt you,” she repeated. “And I know you will not hurt me. What can I do to help you?”_

_I leaned into her touch and smiled. Not the meaningless smile I was accustomed to, but a genuine smile._

 

**  
 _Battling the two teenage girls was a simple task. I had cornered the young Weasley girl when her friend jumped in. Granger joining us wasn’t part of the plan, and though the girls put up a good fight  I did not have to use much energy to ensure my safety. This wouldn’t have been the case if Granger was putting her all into the duel because she was exceptionally skilled witch._

_I fought the urge to tell Granger what was going on as her ever-changing brown eyes focused solely on me. Silently I could here he constant question. She wanted to know why I was doing this. And I wanted her to know._

_I examined their every move closely looking for a place to use the killing curse. When I cast the spell I aimed it past the red headed girl’s shoulder._

_The shrieks of her mother were right on cue. “NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH! OUT OF MY WAY!”_

_We both acted as if we were dueling to kill. The heat of our harmless spells caused the floor to crackle beneath us._

_Molly sent a spell at me. A green light aimed just at the right place. I moved my arm slightly and allowed it to hit me. The spell suspended me in the air before dropping me to the ground._

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

That is how I now find myself with a new beginning. On the floor pretending to be dead as Harry Potter conquers the Dark Lord.


	2. Chapter 2

**Story:** When Everything Changed

**Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

**Rated:** M

**Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.**

**A/N 3: Not the original. Revised and Reposted.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________**

**Hermione’s POV**

I should feel overjoyed that the war is over. Part of me is, but the other half… I watched as the woman that saved my life was murdered without a word. I stood there frozen and distraught that I couldn’t return the favor. After all of the horrible things Bellatrix Lestrange has done no one will know of the moment she redeemed herself by assisting in seven people’s escape from the Malfoy manor.

Untangling myself from the roaring crowd I slip out of the room and take a seat on the hard stone staircase in the entrance hall, or what is left of it. The sound of students filing out of the Great Hall becomes white noise as my thoughts consume me.  I continue to scold myself for even considering mourning Bellatrix Lestrange. However, that is overridden by the guilt of not even attempting to save her when she risked her life to save me.

Blinking I find caring emerald green eyes observing me. I send Professor McGonagall a small smile and it is returned before she leaves the castle.

I will wait. I need to talk to her. I missed Hogwarts this year, but even more so I missed Professor McGonagall. All year I wished I could turn to her seeking advice and comfort, and right now my need of a friend has never been greater. I have Ron, Harry, and Ginny, but I can’t bring myself to talk to them. Not about the difficult things. I’m not exactly sure they would understand.

I haven’t told Harry or Ron what really happened that night at the Malfoy Manor. I can’t and even if I did they wouldn’t believe me.

 Bellatrix Lestrange’s piercing eyes won’t leave my mind. I remember the first time I saw her: she fresh from Azkaban, and too thin, but not fragile. I would never describe her as fragile. Her eyes held a vast emptiness and an overwhelming amount of insanity. But when she looked at me at the Malfoy’s something had changed. Her eyes where no longer void of emotion. There was confusion and uncertainty floating in them.

A hand on my shoulder drags me away from my thoughts. Looking up I stare into the kind eyes of my Professor. “It’s nice to see you, Hermione. When Potter said he couldn’t find you or Mr. Weasley I was worried.”

“We were…we were following through with something so the students of Hogwarts could go home with tales of how Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord,” I state with a smirk. As I stand up I am pulled into a tight embrace which surprises me. I return the gesture and find myself sinking into her warm, comforting arms.  “Do you have a few minutes Professor?” I ask in a whisper.

“Of course.” I walk alongside her down the crumbling and destroyed corridors. “The castle will take most of the summer to repair,” She says as she watches me take in the damage done to the place that I have called home for six years. I still consider it home even though I did not return for my seventh year.

I had a home, but my parents never understood the world I lived in. They were not eager to hear about my accomplishments or my adventures so naturally I preferred Hogwarts where there were others like me.  Harry understands my love of this building, but Ron has a wizarding home to return to.  He has always says I love Hogwarts too much.

“Professor?”

“Yes, Miss Granger?” I want to cringe. I like it better when she calls me Hermione, but six years of teaching me has created a habit.

I follow her as she turns down a corridor. We have been weaving around the castle trying to find a safe way to her office. Many passages are blocked by piles of stone, fallen pillars, bookshelves, armor, and bodies that have yet to be unburied from the ruble.

I wonder if I should bring the person occupying my thoughts into this conversation, or if Professor McGonagall would even have a helpful answer for me. But one glance at her reassures me that if I need to talk she’s the one to talk to. She won’t judge me or overreact. And as always she will help me in any way possible. “Were you teaching when Bellatrix Lestrange was a student at Hogwarts?”

“It was Black then dear. Bellatrix Black.”

“Right. I actually knew that.  I saw it on the family tree at Grimmauld Place.  That’s a yes?”

She nods, “Why do you ask?” Her tone has become guarded causing my mind to reel with questions about what she knows and how well she knows Bellatrix Lestrange.

“It has to do with an experience I had a little while ago…” Then I tell her as we walk along halls about what happened at the Malfoy Manor. It is a relief to have someone else know. To have somebody to discuss things with.

“And you want to know more about Bellatrix. It is understandable Hermione. Bellatrix is a very complex person.”

“Did you know her at all? Other than being her teacher?”

“I did,” My eyes bulge as she willingly confirms my suspicion. “However, Miss Granger, I feel it is not my place to tell you about Bellatrix. To understand the true Bellatrix Lestrange you must learn about her past; and there is only one person who can give you that information.”

“But that means I will nev…”

“It’s Bellatrix’s past, it’s her decision.”

  
xx  
Stepping into Professor McGonagall’s quarters I stifle a scream. Sprawled out on the couch is no other than Bellatrix Lestrange.

I can feel my eyes widen and my heart skips a beat. How could she possibly…I saw…what?

No matter what I saw she is lying in front of me: her black wavy locks resting on her shoulders, in a black dress with a purple and black corset over it. Her pale skin is illuminated by the light of the fire. Her face is gaunt, there are dark circles beneath her eyes, and a deep gash across her cheek. Yet she is still strikingly beautiful.

I remember the first time I saw her; it was during my fifth year when Dumbledore’s Army broke into the Department of Mysteries to save Sirius Black, and my first thought was that Bellatrix was gorgeous.  Exactly like that first night I force myself to return to reality and ignore the reasons why such a strange thought keeps popping into my head.

Professor McGonagall waves her wand in Bellatrix’s direction and the gash on Bellatrix’s cheek starts to heal itself. Dark eyes slowly flutter open and I detect warmth in them that was not there before. Her attention first lands on Professor McGonagall and then darts to me. Quickly she stands. “Miss Granger,” She nods at me.

“You should probably get going Bella. People will be coming to discuss Hogwarts matters with me momentarily,” I note how Professor McGonagall calls her Bella causing me to deduce she cares about the woman standing in front of us. In a strange way I do too.

Bellatrix moves past me to the door. I spin around quickly. “Wait,” Bellatrix looks over her shoulder at me. “Before you leave Madame Lestrange,” Shock crosses her face as I address her. “I… I just wanted to thank you for saving my life.”

Nodding she leaves the room.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Professor McGonagall says before following Bellatrix. I can hear their hushed voices in the other room but can’t make out any of what they are saying. Professor McGonagall returns and smiles at me. “I had to open the passage for her to leave.”

“I don’t recall noticing any passages in your office.”

“Hogwarts has many secrets dear.”

“Clearly. When will you be moving into the Headmaster’s office?”

“In a few days’ time I believe.”

“If you need any help repairing the castle…”

“I shall let you know.” Gently taking my arm Professor McGonagall leads me to the couch and sits next to me. “Would you like something to drink? Perhaps a small snack?”

I glance around the familiar room before my eyes find hers and I shake my head.  “What is going on? I saw Mrs. Weasley kill Bellatrix.”

“I will explain what is going on, but first I want you to tell me about how you destroyed the Horecuxes.”

“You know? How? Only Dumbledore, Harry, Ron, and I are supposed to know about those.”

“I have my sources.”

“What about the people coming to meet with you?” I ask as I suddenly remember the reason she had Bellatrix leave. 

“Kreacher.” A pop echoes through the room.

“Yes Mistress?”

“Will you inform the Professors and Ministry employees that I will be unavailable for meetings until after dinner please?”

“Yes Mistress.” He turns to me and nods, “Miss Hermione.”

“Hello Kreacher.” And with another loud pop he is gone.

Professor McGonagall turns her attention back to me and I quickly assess the situation. I know I am not supposed to tell anyone, but she already knows about the Horecuxes so there can’t be any harm in filling in the blanks. My eyes catch Professor McGonagall’s and I know that it is safe to tell her. It will always be safe to tell her. So I begin to inform Professor McGonagall about our journey to destroy the Horecuxes in return for information about how Bellatrix Lestrange yet again escaped death.

  
**  
Sitting on the window ledge I stare out into the trees and fields beyond the yard. It has been a month and I can’t rid my mind of Bellatrix. I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about my thoughts or feelings, because I promised I wouldn’t reveal that Bellatrix isn’t dead. If people knew she is alive it would strike panic amongst the community. Even if the truth were to be told the people of the wizarding world would not listen long enough to hear the good she has done in the past few months. Instead all that would be heard are the lingering memories of the actions of an insane Death Eater. Not even her family knows she is alive. Apparently that is the way she wants it.

A hand slides around my waist and a pair of lips take my earlobe into his mouth. I know I should enjoy this but I don’t. “Ron stop,” I say as I nudge him away with my elbow.

“Aw, come on, ‘Mione,” He says. The stubble on his face scratches my cheek.

“I’m not in the mood.” I escape from his arms and my thoughts as my irritation builds. We have officially been together for three weeks  and I thought things would change. During the war we were too busy to define ourselves as a couple and our relationship was purely physical. I justified this by convincing myself that we didn’t have time for the mental part of the relationship when every day we flirted with death, but as soon as the war was over that would change. I was wrong. Ron wants to continue with our relationship without the expression of feelings or the talking. While I have tried to engage him in conversation it was short lived since our common interests are far and few. I haven’t dared bring this up with Ron, because I love him. I really do and I would rather make sacrifices and be in the type of relationship we are then not be with him at all.

The sun is setting as I walk along the deserted lane. I love the crisp air and vibrant green surrounding me. Like most times I am annoyed with Ron I take a step back. I am lucky tonight that it is nice, seeing as it has been raining for the past few days.

I hear a noise in the distance and I peer around for what caused the sound. I see nothing so I continue to walk. Walk further and further away from my problems. My reality. I walk to a place where I can be alone. I can be myself. Where my mind can wander freely without guilt or regret of my emotions.

I trek up the hill breathing heavily. I remember the morning we trudged up this same hill to catch a portkey to the Quidditch World Cup. Reaching the top I hear the rustling of bushes and look around again I see nothing suspicious.

Pulling out my wand I continue. Taking a seat on the ground I leaning against a tree I close my eyes.

A noise comes from behind me. I whip my head around. Standing there is a rather disheveled looking Bellatrix. “Madame Lestrange, what are you doing here?”

She stands next to me. “Call me Bellatrix.” Her tone is commanding. I cannot tell if she means it to be or if it has been that way for so long it is automatic. “Please,” she adds her voice slightly softer.

“Okay. Feel free to sit next to me if you want.”  She nods and sits. I absorb her appearance. She is thinner than last time. Her eyes even more tired. “Why are you here? Where have you been?”

“I’ve been keeping on the move. I figured it is best. Mainly places where I’m less apt to be recognized. Still I’ve stayed hidden as a precaution. Caves and forests provide the best shielding. I had just apparated here when I saw you walking down the road, Miss Granger.”

“Hermione,” I correct. “Do you think it wise to hide so close to a wizarding community?”

She is silent. The quiet around is awkward yet comforting. I observe Bellatrix from the corner of my eye. She seems to be struggling with something. Quietly she says, “I was hungry I haven’t eaten in a week.” I wonder why she was so hesitant when there is nothing to be ashamed of.

“So you were going to go shopping?”

She chuckles, “Not exactly.”

“If you wait until everyone is sleeping I could sneak you food from the Weasley’s.”

“You don’t have to I can find other food.”

“No I want to.” I realize for the first time that the sun is almost gone from the sky. “If you wait here I will come back and get you once everyone is sleeping. I have to go before people begin to look for me.” I stand up and begin to walk away. I stop and turn to face Bellatrix. “Will you be here?”

She nods and I send her a small smile. She doesn’t return the gesture. I didn’t expect her to.

 

**  
I talked to Mrs. Weasley about bringing Bellatrix to the Burrow eat. Even though she was not pleased, and was hesitant, she agreed to make sure everyone remained upstairs while I brought Bellatrix here.

Quietly I close the door behind me and head  along the same path I did earlier.

I reach the spot where I sat down and look around. “Bellatrix?” I whisper. “Bellatrix?” When she appears I have to remind myself that she won’t hurt me. Under the moonlight the small amount of change in her is gone. It as if she is standing in front of me a ghost of her former self. A frightening ghost that did not mind killing at all.

I reach toward her to take her hand so I can lead her back to the house and stop myself mid-action. I’m certain she would not appreciate that.

We walk back to the Weasley’s in silence. I notice that Mrs. Weasley has already made something for Bellatrix. It was kind of her considering she didn’t want Bellatrix here. “It looks like Mrs. Weasley already made you something, and a bag of food for you to take with you.”

She sits down at the table and begins to eat quickly. I take the chair next to her and allow my eyes to wander around the room while I wait for her to finish.

I am shaken from my thoughts when Bellatrix stands up. I walk her to the door. I am disappointed that she hasn’t said anything. What was I expecting her to say? Why is it so important to me what she thinks? Why do I want to be her friend? Does she want a friend? More importantly does she want me as a friend?

I step into the cool night air. “How long will you be here?”

She shrugs, “It depends.”

“Oh,” I say disappointed. I want to ask if I will see her again, but there is a possibility that she does not want to see me again. “ Well then I guess this is goodbye for now,” or always.

“Bye.” She replies and walks away without a backwards glance.

 

**  
There is a knock on the door. Harry, Ron, Ginny, and George are out playing Quidditch and Mrs. Weasley is running errands. Opening the door I find Tonks behind it holding a small bundle I assume is Teddy. Tonks hasn’t been the same since Lupin’s death. I know she loved him with all of her heart. It shows in her magic. She no longer changes her appearance, whether it is choice or loss of power no one knows.

“Hey Tonks. Come on in.” She follows me into the living room. She sits on the couch and I sink into the recliner across from her. “How are you holding up?” I ask quietly.

“I’m getting by. I miss him.”

“We all do.” We are plunged into silence. Filled with the memories of lost loved ones and emotions that need not to be spoken of. I glance up at Tonks. There are tears in her eyes as she gazes down at her son.

“I wouldn’t be here to hold Teddy. To watch him grow if…” She falls quiet, and I wait to see if she is going to finish.

When it appears she is not going to I ask, “If what?”

“I know this sounds crazy. I’m probably just imagining it, but I could swear that well… I was tired, and the Death Eater I was fighting was winning. He sent the killing curse at me, and it would have hit me if Bellatrix hadn’t knocked me over just in time. It was almost as if it was on purpose. Like I said I know it sounds insane.” I can’t tell Tonks about what happened at the Malfoy’s, but I have a feeling Bellatrix did knock Tonks over on purpose.

To save her life. “Like I said though, I’m probably imagining things.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Story:** When Everything Changed

 **Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

 **Rated:** M

 **Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.**

**A/N 3: Not the original. Revised and Reposted.  
___________________________________________________________________________________**

**Bellatrix’s POV**

The light of the blue flames at my side licks the stone walls around me. An overwhelming darkness can be detected in the world beyond this cave. It lingers and mixes with the eerie blueness that has engulfed me. Waiting for its chance to enter. A bone chilling cold has settled in my body. I hug myself tighter knowing the iciness I’ve sunken into has nothing to do with the bitter night air.

Memories I never wanted to resurface are flooding into me. Haunting me. Actions I don’t remember committing reappear vividly in my mind. Yet I have no doubt that I did do the horrid things I am seeing.  There are memories swimming around in my head I buried long ago; not wanting to be tortured by them: not wanting to remember what really happened. The truth will slowly kill me.

A fury like no other I have ever felt is rising within me. Directed at myself. How could I do all of this? How could I create so much terror, chaos, fear, and sorrow and not feel a single thing?

Hunger is gnawing away at my stomach. I look at the crumpled paper bag in the corner. It has been two weeks since Hermione brought me into the Weasley’s. I should have eaten sparingly but now I believe it best that I didn’t. I should suffer. I should die miserable and alone.

Will it be then, that I die in vain? I helped destroy the Dark Lord, but is that really enough to repay for everything I have done? What else have I done? I have wandered, hiding, instead of facing the world I destroyed.

There is a hoot in the distance and I hug myself tighter. What have I become?

It has been years, decades even, since I have been able to feel anything other than empty fury. And look where it has gotten me. All the live I have taken and destroyed and that torturous emptiness and blinding anger never went away.

I was trapped in this world and I despised it. And the way I lived was the only life I had ever known. I had lost myself but being that lost was comforting. Thinking about it still brings me comfort because I was free of the consequences. I could do whatever I wanted and nothing could stop me. I miss it.

A tawny owl flutters into my chilling surroundings and lands on my shoulders. It is carrying a paper bag.

Opening the bag I pull out a letter and set it next to me. Peering back into the bag I see it contains food, parchment, ink, and a quill.

The owl is waiting.

Opening the letter I begin to read.

_Bellatrix,  
I thought you would either be running low or be out of food. If you need or want anything else just let me know. Hope all is well. ~Hermione_

A small smile touches my lips. Her kindness trickles a small amount of hope into me.

I contemplate her offer. Anything that I want or need. Surely that only implied supplies. Even if it didn’t why would she…? Is it worth the risk? The worst that would happen is I could be rejected. Nothing I am a stranger to. Would I be able to open up one more time? Risk everything one more time?

I remove the parchment, quill, and ink from the bag. Quickly I scrawl my reply and send the owl away before I second guess my actions.

The owl’s silhouette fades into the distance. I can see my note attached to its leg. Nerves cause my stomach to turn, my heart beat to increase, and restlessness start to take effect. I have already begun to open up. Being the first to show a weakness. Loneliness. Taking the first step now what happens is up to her. I was honest and told her exactly what I needed.

A friend.

  
**  
Hidden in the shadows I wait. Trying to peer through the darkness. I can detect footsteps. Two pairs. This wasn’t the plan. Either something went wrong, or Hermione is nervous about being alone with me without anyone knowing she is out. Voices make their way to where I am hiding.  “Hermione, why won’t you talk to me?” A male voice says.

“Since when do you want to talk, Ronald?”

“What are you going on about? We talk all the time!”

“No. You talk about your interests while I listen.”

“It’s not my fault that you don’t add to the conversation.”

“I’m not interested in Quidditch, Ron. That’s your thing.”

“Sometimes you have to compromise in relationships Hermione. Why are you being like this?”

I hear a defeated sigh. “I just want to go for a walk.”

“In the dark?”

“Why don’t you go back to the house? I’ll be back soon.”

A loud, frustrated breath is released. “Fine.”

I can sense another presence, presumably Hermione, on the other side of the brush. “Bellatrix?”

Moving from my spot I step into her line of vision. Fear flickers through her eyes. Quickly it disappears as she realizes the emotion she has shown. I send her a small smile wanting to put her at ease.

She smiles back and my heart flutters for a moment. However the sensation disappears so quickly I am left wondering if it was really there in the first place.

An awkward silence fills the space between us. What was I expecting? Was she supposed to be ecstatic to see me? A killer? Did I really believe it was possible we could be friends?

If it is going to happen I have to remember the basic rules of being friendly, like: how to treat others, and how to speak to her without commanding. “Do you want to walk?” She appears to be surprised that I am the first to speak.

“Okay,” Her tone reveals that she is more at ease. She begins to walk and I follow beside her.

“How have you been?” I am shocked that I have managed to come up with something civil.

The moon illuminates her in the dark. Until this moment I have thought of Hermione as a girl. But now; well now, I am floored by the beauty I never noticed.  She has grown since her fifth year and I have failed to observe the changes the last few times I have seen her. The moonlight causes her wavy brown hair to glisten. Her hazel eyes are full of warmth. She is slim but not overly, with a fuller figure than I remember.

She is contemplating her answer and she has let her guard down without knowing it. I watch all the emotions dance across her face.

“I’ve been all right. It’s weird not having any books to read for the new school year, or not having any pressing matters to attend to. Everything is so different. I’ve… how have you been?” Our eyes lock for a moment and she smiles at me. I smile back.

Shrugging my shoulders I reply, “Okay I guess.” It is a start at least.

“Where have you been? It’s been almost three months since I’ve seen you last.”

“Around. Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what?” She asks distractedly.

“About what happened back there between you and Weasley.”

She sighs, “How much did you hear?”

“Enough.”

“It’s nothing.” I stop walking. Hermione takes a few more steps before noticing I’m not moving. When she turns to me I raise a disbelieving eyebrow at her. “Really.” She states.

“Okay,” I respond. Letting her avoid the question for now.

We  continue walk in a comfortable silence. I have so many new things to think about, but I don’t want to while Hermione is around. Yet, if she opened up, she could add some insight to defuse my curiosity.

“Can I ask you something?” There is an underlining nervousness in her voice. I nod, but realize she probably can’t see me.

“Sure.”

“Why do you choose to stay hidden from everyone? Even your own family?” I open my mouth to reply and close it again. How truthful can I be with her?

However before I even make up my mind I find that I am responding. “I’m a murderer, Hermione. Nothing can make up for what I have done.”

“I know that’s not true,” she replies quietly.

“It is.”

“No it’s not. I know what you have done to help people. You saved your niece so that her son wouldn’t have to grow up without parents. You saved Harry, Ron, and I. Not to mention you helped defeat Voldemort.”

“That doesn’t change anything.” I can sense her ready to reply but we are interrupted by footsteps and a male voice approaching.

“Hermione?” The faint light on the end of a wand tip is visible.

“Damn it!” Hermione exclaims under her breath. Even though her face is hidden by the shadows of the trees I can feel her eyes on me. “Don’t go,” she whispers.

“I need to.”

“Bellatrix, please…”

“Hermione is that you?” I turn on the spot and apparate leaving Hermione behind.

 

**  
Reappearing on the cliff edge I notice on my right arm is heavier than my left. Turning my head I find Hermione clutching it. She must have grabbed onto me at the last minute. “People are going to be looking for you. You need to go back.” A cloud moves from in front of the moon and her face is illuminated. She is deathly pale.

Worry and fear strike me simultaneously. “What’s wrong?” Hermione looks as if she is about to faint. She moves her hand to the back of her arm and begins to shiver.  As she pulls her hand away I notice her fingers are glistening with blood. “Shit! What were you thinking, Hermione? I know you know the dangers of apparating.”

“I’m sorry,” She is quiet. I can feel panic boiling beneath my skin, but I can’t let it show.

“You have nothing to apologize for.” _Lumos!_ A light appears on the tip of my wand. I walk around her, heart pounding wildly, and examine the large chunk taken out of her arm.

I wave my wand a few times. Silently casting a few incantations over the gaping wound trying to determine which would work best. I wave my wand once more and the skin and muscle rapidly begin to mend themselves.

Hermione opens her mouth say to something, but quickly closes it. She is probably fighting back nausea caused by a mixture of pain and the sensation of her healing arm. I drape her uninjured arm over my shoulder and slide my hand around her small waist. Leading her into the cave I am currently occupying I help her sit. I conjure blue ball flames and transfigure a blanket for her. I wrap the blanket around Hermione tightly and take a seat next to her.

She has yet to stop shivering from blood loss. Carefully I move closer to her to provide warmth without making her uncomfortable.

“Thank you. I shouldn’t have, I just… I couldn’t… I wanted…” I hold a finger to her lips to silence her.

“It’s okay.” Her eyes search mine. What is she looking for?

Hermione scared me. I don’t handle fear well, because fear is a weakness.

She looks away from me and begins to take in her surroundings. As she surveys the cave she turns back to me. “You don’t have a bed in here.” I choose not to reply. My answer being too personal. As I observe her I can almost see her brain rapidly moving to connect the dots.

Her voice is a whisper when she chooses to speak. “You’re not a bad person, Bellatrix. Please don’t punish yourself.”

“What are you basing that off of, Hermione? We barely know each other. What about all the things I have done? How do you know this isn’t some elaborate scheme to become the next Dark Lord?”

“From what I’ve heard you were never patient enough to go through with a plan like that.”

I don’t respond. I can’t pull my eyes away from hers. “If you wanted to hurt me you would have already. I’m sure you aren’t used to hearing this, but I trust you, Bellatrix. And even if we haven’t know each other for very long I can see by your actions that you are not a bad person.”

I shake my head disbelievingly at the stubborn girl. “It’s your life you’re risking. Not mine.”

I look away but my eyes wander back her warm hazel ones for a moment before looking away again. When I’m around Hermione she makes me feel vulnerable. I have only been around her a few times, but in those times she has found a way to quickly work her way under my skin. Leading me to believe she can see things about me that I wouldn’t even admit to myself.

Out of the corner of my eye I see her pull the blanket tighter around herself. I flick my wand and a thin mattress appears in the corner of the cave. I don’t want her going anywhere tonight. She does not have the energy. “You should get some rest. It is late.”

“What about you?”

“I’m not tired.” She struggles but manages to get up with my help. Such a small action leaves her drained. She lies on the bed. I refuse to let my eyes wander to her: to rest upon her and taint the small amount of innocence that remains.

I can sense her eyes on me. Burning holes and attempting to dissect me. Yearning for knowledge. She reminds me of a younger version of myself. The difference is, though, that she craves knowledge in a way that will help others; I collected knowledge greedily for my own benefit, and it would later be used in the worst ways. Did I know at the time that my need to learn would aid in some of the most horrific crimes imaginable?

 Yes.

“Bella?” The way my name rolls off her tongue catches my attention, and warmth begins to spread through me. I shake it away.  I am not allowed to feel anything remotely good. I am determined to suffer for all those I caused to suffer.

“Yes?”

“Do…do you think…never mind.” My eyes land on her despite my internal protest. Her expression is pushing away my thickest walls. I don’t know what it is about her.

“What is it?”

“Do you think, if you don’t mind, that maybe you could hold me? Just for a few minutes…never mind it is a stupid idea.” I can tell she needs someone at the moment and I don’t want to make her suffer when she put herself out there and asked. I stand up and lightly sit on the edge of the mattress. Hermione moves over and glances at me when I make no sign of moving closer to her. “You don’t have to.” I catch a glimpse of her need again. Her fragility. I move to her side and sit with my back propped against the stone wall behind me. She is waiting. I lay down next to her and she rests her head on my chest. She covers me with the blanket, and wraps an arm around my waist. “Thank you,” she whispers before her breathing evens out and she falls asleep.

  
**  
I watch as Hermione vanishes into thin air. Looking back at the cave I know that it is time for me to move again. Where? I don’t know. I collect my few possessions and tuck them away. Flicking my wand the mattress disappears along with any evidence of my presence here.

My mind wanders to Hermione and how she has to return to the Weasley’s and try to explain her absence to her friends and family. I consider  the red head boy, Ron, and how they are in a relationship.

Thinking about them, and all that Hermione has going for her; I realize what I have known all along. I need to stay out of her life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Story:** When Everything Changed

 **Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

 **Rated:** M

 **Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.**

**A/N 3: Not the original. Revised and Reposted.  
** _______________________________________________________________________________

**Hermione’s POV**

Rays of sun filter through the curtains and dance in front of my closed eyelids. Ron is running his fingers through my hair as I pretend to sleep. I’ve been up for a while thinking about life and friends: particularly Bellatrix. It’s been almost two months since I left Bellatrix at the cave and I have not heard a word from her. I sent out an owl but received no reply. I was under the impression that she wanted to try to be friends. Did she change her mind?

I push away the irritation that Ron was trying to wake me up even though I was already up. I know exactly why he wants me up I can feel it pressing against my lower back.  I roll out of Ron’s strong arms. His embrace isn’t as comfortable as it used to be. Before I can reach the edge of the bed his arm snakes around my uncovered waist.

I feel vulnerable. I yank the covers over my chest. I don’t want his eyes roaming me again.

He had his chance at that last night and he took it. I know I shouldn’t, but I let him touch me. Let him put himself inside of me so I could escape my overactive mind. So I could forget the nagging voice in the back of my head that has been telling me our relationship is wrong.

The same voice keeps telling me to look back and find a time I was attracted to men, and I can’t think of one. I push that thought aside though. Of course I am. I just haven’t found the right man yet: until then I have Ron. He loves me, and he keeps me safe. Sex is a small price to pay for what he gives me: a sense of self, and security.

I really do love him. Part of me thinks if I make it through this rough patch in the relationship it will be worth it. Another part of me occasionally tries to tell me I’m the only one who sees the rough patch.

Ron pulls me closer and presses his naked body against mine. He places light, scratchy kisses along my bare shoulder and his lean muscles feel wrong against me.

Closing my eyes I pretended to enjoy it as he lavishes me with his mouth. I let out insincere moans. I let him touch me wherever he wants as I try to focus on the sensations. Not what will come next.  I don’t want to think about how when Ron is inside of me I will think of someone else. I feel guilty for doing so but I feel worse because of who I think of, and what that will mean for me.

Lightly I push on his shoulders. “Ron not now. I don’t feel good.” His movements immediately stop and he lies beside me gathering me in his arms.

“Is there anything I can get you? A potion? Soup?”

“No.” He tightens his embrace on me as guilt begins to course through my veins. I don’t deserve this kindness. Not while my mind is currently screaming that he is not the one I want.

 

**  
Leaning against the tree I watch the gnomes running freely through the garden. I can sense eyes on me. They are boring holes in my flesh, and their owner is standing just out of view. I can tell his gaze apart from any other as his concern radiates across the lawn. He won’t approach me though, because Ron has come to understand I need time alone.

His footsteps fade and I know he has left. Yet someone is still watching me. I shiver under their gaze. Glancing around I can see a shadow behind a tree at the edge of the woods.

Taking out my wand I inch my way over to the trees. For a moment dark brown eyes stare out at me before I realize who they belong to. “Bellatrix is th…” A loud crack fills the air and she is gone. “Damn it!”

 I know it is dangerous, but an image of her face in mind I turn on the spot and I am squeezed into blackness.

 

**  
Instantly I open my eyes praying that it has worked. Quickly I take in my surroundings: I am in a forest where the leaves are so thick the sunlight can only reach the ground in small spread out patches. Out of the corner of my eye I notice a cloak swishing out of sight.

The rustling and cracks are rapidly becoming fainter I begin to run in that direction.

 “Bellatrix! Hey, wait up!” I yell through uneven breaths.

I can tell I am gaining on her as her figure becomes more pronounced. Long wavy black hair flows freely behind her. With a burst of speed I catch up to her and grab her wrist. Bellatrix whips around to look at me; dark bags have formed under her eyes, she is thinner than I remember, almost as if she is freshly out of Azkaban. Her eyes are darting around as her chest hastily rises and falls. “What the hell?” My voice is louder than I meant it to be as I struggle to get enough oxygen. “Why did you run?” I can hear the hurt and confusion oozing out of my voice. I clear my expression. Not wanting to appear hurt even if I am.

“You shouldn’t be here.” 

“Bellatrix, you were the one who came to me.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” She is refusing to look at me. I can see her walls forming. Somehow this only makes me want to be here more.

“Please look at me,” I say quietly. I watch her walls crash down as she loses her resolve. Her eyes lock with mine and instantly I know why I didn’t hear from her. “What’s wrong?”

“You shouldn’t be here.” I know I won’t get anything else from her.

“I know, but I want to be.” Her chocolaty eyes soften and again I am floored by her beauty.

She nods and begins to walk away. I follow her. As we walk the only sounds that can be heard are those of snapping twigs and the crunching of fallen leaves.

I don’t know what to say to help her.  I can see her repeatedly glancing at me but I pretend not to notice. “Where are you staying?”

“In the Forbidden Forest.” I raise my eyebrow as I look around.

“This isn’t the Forbidden Forest.” She shrugs. Does she really think it is safe for her to be so close to Hogwarts?

“Needed to clear my mind.”

“Why?”

“It’s not important.”

“Did you get my letter?”

“Yes. I need to go.”

I put my hand on her shoulder. Her eyes land on mine and I immediately begin to struggle with the power they hold over me. I want to lose myself in the depths of those dark pools. Even more I want her to let me, and want me to see what lies within them. “What’s going on? Why won’t you let me see you? Why won’t you return my letters? I’ve been…” I’ve been worried about her, but I am not going to give her the satisfaction of knowing that.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I know, you’ve said that already,” I irritably reply.

“With me Hermione. You shouldn’t be here with me. You have a family, friends, and a boyfriend back at the Weasley’s. You should be there where you are out of harm’s way.”

Why would I be in danger when I’m around Bellatrix? When I’m with her it’s the safest I’ve ever felt.

“I need to go.”

“Can I join you?’

“I don’t know if…” She stops as she turns her head and her eyes find mine. “Yes.” I slide my hand into hers and our surroundings disappear.

  
xx  
As the world snaps back into focus I find myself in front of a gate. Peering through the bars I can make out a large home located at the edge of a forest; hidden in the shadows. “Bella,” I turn to discover a small smile on her face. “Where are we?”

“The Black Manor.”

“The… Why aren’t you hiding here?”

“Technically the estate now belongs to Narcissa since I have passed away.”

“But you haven’t passed away.”

“Yes, but Narcissa doesn’t know that, and could come here at any time. Though the family home is mine the wards do not keep her out.”

“Because she is family. Why didn’t the property go to Andromeda? I mean Narcissa already has the Malfoy manor.”

“Andromeda is a blood traitor.” I notice that Bellatrix has not let go of my hand since we apparated.

She appears deep in thought so I squeeze her hand. She glances up at me before her eyes travel down to our linked hands. Butterflies flutter in my stomach as she squeezes back.

“The wards,” Bellatrix states her eyes riveted on our joined hands, “Will remember my magical signature. The next time Cissy and her family visit they will be able to detect I’ve been here.”

“I read somewhere there is a way to trick the wards into thinking your signature is someone else’s.”

“There is, but what I have in mind is much simpler. I need your help though.”

“What do you need me to do?” I am disappointed when Bellatrix lets go of my hand and stands behind me.

“Take out your wand.” She slowly slides her hand down my arm as the other comes to rest on my waist. I am having a hard time breathing regularly and I am praying that Bellatrix does not hear my heart beating wildly in my chest as the images my mind created while I was having sex with Ron flash through my head: images of Bellatrix.

Her hand wraps around my wand hand and she raises our joined hands so that my wand is aimed above the gates. “Have you ever shifted wards before?”

“No.”

“What I want you to do is simple. I will tell you the incantations and you repeat them. The wards will not react to you; however, I will be contributing just enough magic that they will recognize me. But next time my sister comes to visit or her fool of a husband they most likely will not pick up on the hint of my magic, rather notice yours.”

“So I’m covering up your magical signature. What if they are here now?”

“They’re not.”

“Isn’t there an easier way?” I ask motioning to our position.

“Perhaps,” she whispers in my ear. Chills run down my spine and subtly I shake my head: my body needs to stop. I can’t have this kind of reaction to Bellatrix. I’m with Ron. I love him. Turning my head to the side I glance at Bellatrix and she smiles at me: I return the gesture.

I back further into her body so she does not need to stretch her arm as far. “What if my magical signature raises concern when the Malfoys stay here?”

“Oh it will, but they won’t know whose signature it is nor will they call the Ministry in to investigate, because there are many dangerous dark art items in that house. Poor Lucius would not want to lose his job again. Are you ready?”

I nod. Bellatrix whispers incantations into my ears which I carefully repeat. The power needed behind the magic causes our joined hands to glow. I watch in awe as the yellow flowing from my hand intertwines with the slight hint of purple that Bellatrix is releasing. The magic rolls off my wand and mixes with the spell we are performing. As the spell hits the ward the invisible barrier appears. It snaps its stiches and realigns around the entrance of the gate.

“Let go,” Bellatrix whispers in my ear. I do as she instructs and the force of our spell sends us sprawling backward. Somehow Bellatrix manages to keep her footing and catch me before I hit the ground.

With some effort I manage to right myself. My whole body is shaking. Glancing over at Bellatrix she looks pale, but not as drained.

“How are you feeling?” She asks quietly.

“Tired.”

“You need chocolate. Are you up to performing one last spell?” She asks she closes the gates behind us.

Nodding I raise my wand. “Are you going to help?”  Bellatrix has not moved from where she is standing.

“There is no need. I had you embed your signature into the wards so they will now recognize your magic. You are free to come and go from The Black Manor whenever you please.”

“Bellatrix I…Thank you.”

“Let’s go inside.” Bellatrix tells me the incantation, which I perform. I have to sprint to catch up with her when I am done because she has almost made it half way across the lawn. Everything about the land surrounding The Black Manor is gorgeous, especially as the leaves begin to change. Even the manor is beautiful in an ominous way.

  
xx  
“Wow.”

Bellatrix smiles at me, “I thought you might like it.” My eyes dart across the library attempting to take in all of the books at once.

Bellatrix waves her hand and the fireplace springs to life. “I’m going to get chocolate. Would you like anything else?”

“No thanks. Do you need help?”

“No.” As Bellatrix exists the room I notice a large family tree on the back wall. It is the only wall not lined with bookshelves and as I get closer I realize the family tree is identical to the one in Grimmauld Place.

My eyes travel the lineage and I make connections I had not before.  Bellatrix comes to stand beside me and hands me a bar of chocolate. “Thank you.”

“I don’t know how old it is so be careful.”

“Do you want a piece?”

“A small one might do me some good. I forgot how draining adjusting the wards can be even when you are not the primary source of magic.” My fingertips brush over the palm of her hand as I hand her a piece of chocolate. I suppress the urge to intertwine our fingers knowing that nothing good could come of it.

“Is there a Lestrange Manor?”

“There was. It was destroyed during the second war with the Dark Lord…”

“His name is Voldemort. Tom Riddle to be accurate,” I interrupt. “You no longer serve him nor did you serve him in the end. He does not deserve your respect.”

“Voldemort. I can show you where the Manor used to be one day; if you’d like.”

“That’d be nice. If it were still standing would you live there?”

“No.”

“What if you hid on the grounds?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Another time, Hermione.” I know better than to push.

My eyes fall on where Sirius should be on the family tree. In his place is a giant black hole. “He was too young to die,” Bellatrix states. “I shouldn’t have killed him.” Turing to Bellatrix I am floored by the sorrow on her face.

“He was a good man and Harry’s best friend. Harry will never say it, but he viewed Sirius as his only living family member.” I state.

“I know.”

“But you are redeeming yourself and you continue to every day.”

“I’m not so sure of that.”

“I am.”

“I know you are.”

I return my attention to the family tree and my eyes land on Andromeda, who has been removed from the family tree in the same way. I glance over at Bellatrix: her back is toward me as she stares into the fire. My eyes find her on the tree.

“Um, Bellatrix?”

“Yes?”

“You might want to look at this.” She turns around and I point to her spot on the family tress. A black hole has replaced where her face used to be.

I hear her whisper, “Blood traitor.”

 

**  
Knocking on the door I wait. I can hear shuffling on the other side. The door opens and I am gazing into the kind face of Andromeda Tonks. “Hermione, dear, please come in!” She steps aside and I enter the house. I can hear Teddy cooing from the direction of the living room.

“I was wondering if Tonks is here?”

“She just ran to the store, but she should be back soon. Follow me darling.” I walk behind Andromeda into the living room where Teddy is playing with toys in his crib.

I sit on the couch and glance around before returning my attention to Tonks’ mom. For a moment all I can see is Bellatrix. Their features are so similar, but the small differences begin to make themselves present.  Lighter hair, less haunted eyes, and  more shapely; Andromeda and Bella could be twins.  Even though Bellatrix is the oldest of the Black sisters she does not at all look it, and I wouldn’t have guessed she is, if I had not seen the family trees. “You look like you have something on your mind dear.”

I look up into all too familiar chocolaty brown eyes and make a decision. “Dromeda …could you tell me about Bellatrix?”

“My older sister.” She states I can sense the silence that is about to descend upon us. There is anger written clearly on her face, but it doesn’t mask the love. “She wasn’t always so horrible,” A smile tugs at the corner of her lips. “She always called me her little angel. Our parents were never around; they were too caught up in the dark arts. Bella took care of us. Sometimes I wonder if she had, had the freedom to be a kid would she still have been as evil. Doesn’t matter now right? She died serving her master. That’s the way she would have wanted it.”

I want to tell her that Bella’s not dead. That I saw Dromeda that I spent the day with Bellatrix yesterday. I want to share with her how wonderful it is to have a friend who is not friendly with the Weasleys or Harry. I want to tell her about how Bellatrix is one of the only reasons Voldemort lost.

The front door opens and closes. Tonks walks into the room her hair a faded bubblegum pink. It’s good to see she is getting back to her normal self, or at least as normal as she will ever be after her husband’s death.

“Hermione what are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you… but I think your mom has answered my question. I should go.” I stand up and she watches me curiously. I can see worry flashing in her eyes.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” I reply quietly, looking away.

“I’ll walk you out.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.”

“Okay.” I walk out of the house and Tonks follows me. Once we are outside she closes the door.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” She sends me a disbelieving look, and I feel bad. I know how it is to be concerned about someone and have them avoid your questions. “I can’t tell you.”

“Okay,” My statement only increases the worry I see in her eyes. “Why did you come over?”

“I…I…honestly I don’t know.” I needed advice: about Ron and about Bellatrix, but I could never betray Bellatrix’s trust. I needed advice on love, on life, on everything.

“Alright,” She places her hand on my arm. “You don’t look well, Hermione. I am worried about you.”

I nod, “I know. I’m fine though. I promise.” I know she doesn’t believe me but it is the best I can do right now.

I have so many questions involving Ron. I love him. I know I do, but my interactions will Bellatrix make me stop and question the depth of my feelings. There is also Bellatrix and the odd friendship we have developed.

Maybe I’ll visit Hogwarts.

  
**  
Hogsmeade is crowded with students as I apparate into the street. I recognize only a few of them, such as, Denis Creevey. “Ms. Granger,” says a squeaky, pleased voice from behind me.

Turning I see my former charms teacher. “Professor Flitwick! How are you?”

“Wonderful my dear, absolutely wonderful. What brings you to Hogsmeade?”

“I had a feeling this is where I would find Professor McGonagall since it is a Hogsmeade weekend. She still joins the students although she is the Headmistress right?”

“Indeed she does. In fact I saw her only moments ago in the Three Broomsticks.”

“Thank you Professor. It was great to see you again.”

I open the door to the Three Broomsticks and the place is packed with students. I squeeze my way up to the counter and make polite conversation with Rosemerta while she makes me a butterbeer. Peering around the pub I spot Professor McGonagall and Hagrid sitting at a table in the corner.

I make my way over to them. They seem to be involved in a light hearted conversation. Hagrid is facing me and spots me first. He waves at me knocking over his drink. Professor McGonagall flicks her wand and the mess is cleaned up. She turns to see who Hagrid was waving to and smiles as her eyes land on me.

Hagrid gets up and in a booming voice exclaims “ ’Mione! Wha’ are yeh  doin’ ‘ere?” He pulls me into a bone crushing hug.

“Hagrid… I can’t…breathe,” I manage to say. He let’s go of me and I discreetly rub my ribcage which causes Professor McGonagall to chuckle. Her eyes rapidly study me and her mood sobers slightly. I feel guilty coming here and ruining her good mood.

I seem to feel guilty for a lot of things these days.

I take a seat next to her and sip my butterbeer. “ ’Mione yeh  n’ver ans’red my question.”

“I needed to speak with Professor McGonagall. How have you been Hagrid?”

“Good. How ‘re Harry and Ron?”

“Great last time I checked.”

“Well I’ll leave yeh two. I ‘ave work on the grounds ‘at I shoul’ be attendin’ to.”

“Bye Hagrid.” He roughly pats me on the back and leaves.

I turn to Professor McGonagall who is watching two Slytherins closely. She flicks her wand and the nasty half of the Puking Pastille they are trying to slip into a first years’ drink explodes in their faces.

“You needed to talk?” I can hear the overwhelming care in her tone. My only response is to look her in the eyes. “What is it?” I can feel the heavy silencing charm she casts over us.

“I… life.” She raises and eyebrow and waits. “Things with Ron…well…I…” I give up trying to explain and hope that she understands what I was attempting to express.

“Start from the beginning.”

“I love Ron. I know I do.”

“You sound as if you are trying to convince yourself dear.”

“I…I might be. Lately, well since our relationship started really, it has been purely,”  I can feel the blush creep up on my cheeks, “Physical.” I glance at Professor McGonagall. Her face has remained unphased, almost; I notice the small smirk upon her lips. “ I don’t know what I want anymore.”

“It is perfectly natural to be afraid of leaving behind your security blanket, Hermione. However, while it is clear you love Mr. Weasley,  you need to ask yourself if you are still in love with him.”

“Of cour…” My shoulders sink with the weight of the truth. “No.” Professor McGonagall covers my hand with hers.

“There is more isn’t there dear?”

“I’ve realized that all the people in my life are connected to Ron and Harry in some way. You are one of the few who are connected to them, but not in a way that you favor them, or I could not talk to you. That is not to say that you do not care about them, because I can tell you do. At the moment I really wish that my parents were still around.”

“When you are ready I can help you bring them back to Britain.”

“But I erased their memories.”

“There are ways to counteract the effect of the spell.”

“Thank you.” Tears well in my eyes as I smile at Professor McGonagall. A comfortable silence falls over us as Rosemerta appears and we order more drinks before the silencing charm is put back in place.

“Is Bellatrix still in the forest?” I ask quietly.

“I had a feeling the two of you would keep in touch. No she is not. I met her at the edge of the forest last night and she informed me she was leaving. She appeared rather upset; much like yourself.”

“I’m not…” I don’t bother finishing knowing there is no use in arguing with the truth. “Yesterday we spent the afternoon together, and when I left Bellatrix seemed fine; better in fact, than earlier in the day.”

“Tell me about yesterday.”

For the first time I find myself hesitant to talk to Professor McGonagall. “Well we went to the Black Manor and spent most of the day talking in the library.”

“Bellatrix was risking a great deal by taking you there.”

“I know. There was one thing that was rather odd.”

“What?” Professor McGonagall moves forward in her seat. There is worry carved into the few lines on her face.

“Well there is a family tree in the library and there was a hole where Bellatrix’s face used to be.”

“If Lucius notices there will be trouble.”

I observe Professor McGonagall while she is lost in thought. There are so many things I do not know about the woman in front of me. I have so many questions, but don't know how to ask them.

“It is curious that Bellatrix would bring you to the Black Manor.”

“She said that the Lestrange Manor was destroyed.”

“Indeed it was, but that is not where I am going with this. Pardon my abruptness, but have you ever found yourself attracted to women?”

“I…I’ve thought about it.”

“I see,” Professor McGonagall smiles at me and my nerves disappear.

“The first time you thought about it was in your fifth year was it not?” 

“Yes. How did you know?”

“If I remember correctly that year was the first time you had an encounter with Bellatrix.”

“It was.”

“It could be a coincidence that you first questioned your sexuality when you met Bellatrix and now, three years later, you have begun to question your feelings toward Ronald, but I doubt it.”

My heart stops: she’s right.

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Story:** When Everything Changed

 **Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

 **Rated:** M

 **Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.**

**A/N 3: Not the original. Revised and Reposted.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________**

**Bellatrix’s POV**

I remain silent in the shadows; his lips roam her neck, his hands tangle in her golden brown hair, and anger begins to rise within me. She tries to push him away. She tells him to stop but he won’t listen. “Come on ‘Mione it’s been almost two weeks since the last time we…”

“Not right now Ronald.”

“You always have an excuse!” He takes her wrists and forces her backward until she is pinned between his body and a tree.

Without warning my mind encloses me: unwanted lips against my skin, putrid scents, sharp teeth sinking into my flesh, causing unvoiced fear. Silent tears streaming down my cheeks and there is a harsh voice in my ear. I turn my head to the side attempting to clear the fragmented memories.

“Ron! Let me go.” The sound of struggling brings me back. For now.

I slip my wand out of my robes. Quietly I advance on them. Hermione is too busy trying to release herself from Weasley’s grasp to notice me. I jab my wand into the side of his head. “I wouldn’t do that if I were you Ginger,” I say. Instantly he lets go of Hermione.

The fear  that exists not only in his eyes but in hers catches me off guard. “Bel…Bellatrix Lestrange, but you’re supposed to be dead. This is impossible!”

“Yet I’m standing here in front of you, you filthy little blood traitor,” my voice is hollow. I can feel the anger that surged through my veins for so long resurfacing.  At the moment I could do anything and not feel drop remorse. _Obliviate!_ Moving closer to the boy I whisper into his ear. “I want you to get out of my sight, and when you are back in your precious little room you will believe you have been there all along.” I resist the urge to cause pain. To search for a release from this turmoil of emotions. Just for this moment  I am back to my old self and it is wonderful.

I turn to Hermione; her wariness is evident. “Bellatrix?” She asks cautiously. I can feel myself weakening, and the darkness retreating. I struggle to keep my old comfort. I want to go back to who I was. It is torture having a conscious and having to live with guilt of what I have done.

“What?” I ask my voice is barely more than a whisper. Light footsteps sound before I find Hermione by my side. Her hand is on my arm but I refuse to meet her eyes.

“Thank you…it’s been weeks Bella.” The use of my nickname doubles the guilt she is instilling in me. “Where have you been? I’ve tried to reach you…I…I was worried,” her voice fades with each word.

I look up at her and find everything I wish I never saw floating in the depths of her eyes. Worry, hurt, sorrow, confusion and….

Love.

I must be seeing things. All she knows is the destruction that follows me. She could not care about anyone with such a dark past. It would be foolish.

“Are you alright? He didn’t hurt you did he?”

“No I’m fine.” I can see the bruises forming on her wrists.

“Come with me,” I say before wrapping her arm around mine and turning on the spot.

 

**  
When our surroundings fill back in around us we are standing on a gradually sloping hill, which overlooks the clear night sky that meets the mountains. I sit and wait for Hermione to do the same.

 “You can leave him,” I suggest quietly.

“No I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Not as complicated as what is to come in your relationship if you do not leave.”

“You don’t understand.”

“So help me understand Hermione.” I didn’t to sound so kind or loving.

“I…I can’t. Why do you care all of a sudden?” Her voice is sharp and accusing. A deadly anger flashes through her eyes.  “You keep pulling me closer and pushing me away? What am I supposed to do Bella? Ignore it?”

“I’m sorry, Hermione. I know I’m not around as much as either of us would like. But when I’m here I’m trying. The circumstances aren’t exactly idea, but at least we have the chance to be friends.” The confidence that I had leaves me, and I am left staring at Hermione’s hurt face. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I.. I care about you,” I admit weakly. I want to tell her I was trying to protect her, but the truth is I’ve been trying to protect myself. I cannot bring myself to act as if I am a selfless friend. I will never be that type of person or friend.

I glance at Hermione and catch her examining me. There is something in her eyes, but as quickly as it was there it is gone.

She moves closer before resting her head on my shoulder and curls her body into mine. “I’m sorry,” she whispers in my ear.

Warmth makes itself present within me.  I wrap my arm around Hermione’s back and pull her closer. “You can leave him.”

“No I can’t. His family is my family. His friends are my friends. If I hurt him…”

“You won’t have anybody to fall back on,” I know the situation all too well. “You will lose your sense of security when you are already confused. You will have people, Hermione. You have Professor McGonagall and you will have me.” I hope that is the truth. I hope I can bring myself to be there for her. I have to start over. Hermione has offered to be there so why not with her?

I must have said something right because she drapes her arm across my front. An icy wind blows and she buries her face in my shoulder. I can still hear her when she mumbles, “I know.”

  
**  
Hermione is lying on the ground looking up at me. The tall grass around us keeps us hidden. She is waiting patiently for my answer. She wants to know if I will ever allow people to know that I am not dead.

I highly doubt the wizarding world would openly embrace my return. “Everybody can live peacefully believing that I am dead. Why take that away from them?”

“There are people out there that miss you, Bella. People who want to spend time with you without you always having to be hidden.”

“Like who?”

“Me. I know for a fact that Dromeda misses you. She believes you left this world the way you would have wanted. That gives her some comfort. I can’t promise that Tonks would react kindly toward you, but she does have a suspicion that you saved her in the battle. What you did was sweet.”

“I didn’t want another child to have to grow up parentless.” I can see the ideas rushing through her head. “What are you thinking?”

She shrugs her shoulders. “Nothing.”

 

**  
“Hermione where are we go…” The familiar building looms in front of me. How many days have I stood here unseen? “No, Hermione.”

“Come on Bella you’ll have to do it sooner or later.” She takes my hand and drags me across the yard toward my younger sister’s house.

“Not this soon.” How can I face her after all I have done? I can vividly picture the disgust that will cross Dromeda’s face.

Is Hermione crazy? She is leading me right onto the front porch of an auror. My niece will be thrilled when one of the most wanted Death Eaters of all time walks into her house.  Even better a Death Eater that is supposed to be dead.

Her wand taps on my head and it feels as if she just cracked an egg on my skull. As the cold trickles down my body I slowly disappear. When I am completely invisible Hermione knocks on the door. “I can’t do this. I’m leaving.” I hiss in her ear.

“No.” Hermione grabs my wrist. “Please stay. This will be good for you.”

“No, Hermione. There is a reason I haven’t wanted anyone to know I’m not dead. If you were my friend you would respect that.” She turns and hurt eyes probe where my body should be.

“I am your friend,” she replies weakly. She releases me from her grasp and turns back toward the door. Guilt and anger toward myself floods my senses and causes me to remain where I am. Gently I place my hand on her arm so I don’t get shut out of the house. She flinches at first but then relaxes into my touch.

As the door opens I lean into her ear and say in a barely audible voice, “I’m sorry.”

The shock of coming face to face with my little sister paralyzes me: it’s like looking in a mirror. The last time I saw her she was not even out of Hogwarts and she bore a great resemblance to my father; however, she was opposed to everything he stood for, which in turn, meant everything I stood for. Though I loved her I couldn’t bear to look at her. When I left Hogwarts I cut off all ties with my family for years before I finally contacted Cissy.

Hermione is stalling in the doorway so that I can slip in behind her. Silently I take a deep breath before stepping inside. Nymphadora calls from the other room, “Who is it, Mom?”

“Hermione, dear,” Dromeda replies. She pulls Hermione into a hug and I long to hold my little sister again. I didn’t realize how much I have missed her.

I can’t change who my family is, but I am beginning to realize that the family I spent so many years running away from held two of the most precious people in my life: my sisters.

Hermione’s eyes land on me. When she does not divert her sad gaze Dromeda follows with her own eyes.

I follow them into the living room. I smile as my great-nephew crawls across the floor beaming and cooing away. My niece is sitting on the sofa watching him. Hermione bends over and scoops him up in her arms. “Hey Teddy! How’s my little man doing?” She gives him a quick kiss on the forehead before letting the squirming infant return to his freedom on the floor.

He begins to crawl in my direction. Maybe if I stay where I am he will bump into me. It’s not much but it will be the only contact I will ever have with my nephew.

I can feel more than one set of eyes on me, and for a moment I wonder if I have made a noise, however, two sets of eyes soon leave me. I’m too focused on watching Teddy to listen to the conversation going on around me. I have to dart out of the way when Dromeda gets up and barely misses walking directly into me on her way into the other room.

“Tonks, I need to tell you something,” I can hear the nervousness in Hermione’s voice and it puts me on edge.

“What is it sweetheart?” Hermione takes a seat next to my niece who has neon green hair at the moment.

“I know last time I was here I was acting weird, and I wanted to explain.”

“Okay.”

Hermione’s gaze remains on her lap and Nymphadora’s on Hermione. “What would you say if I told you that I know something that only two other people do? Or that it is something I feel others have the right to know too?” She isn’t going to…

“Can you be more specific?”

“Bellatrix didn’t die.” She is.

Nymphadora stares blankly at Hermione. “Are you sure? I saw Molly kill her; everyone did.”

“You saw what you were supposed to see. She’s still alive. I’ve seen her.”

“Did she hurt you? Where is she? Why haven’t you reported this to the ministry?”

“No, she would never hurt me, and I didn’t say anything because Bellatrix deserves a second chance.”

“Are we talking about the same person?”

"Her death was planned. Mrs. Weasley was supposed to look like she killed Bella."

"Bella? Hermione, how many times have you seen her?"

“She’s my friend.”

Nymphadora pulls out her wand. I can hear her mutter something about the Imperious Curse.

“I’m not under the Imperious Curse, Tonks. Ask me something Bellatrix wouldn’t know.”

“What did you want to be when you were a child?”

“A dentist like my parents.”

“I still find that cute. If what you are saying is true then why hasn’t someone else come to the ministry with this information?”

"She didn't want anyone to know."

Hermione stands up and I begin to retreat. I know what she is doing and I am not ready. I back myself into the wall as Hermione's fingers wrap around the edge of my cloak and she gives the fabric a tug. I almost crash into her but catch myself just in time. She taps me with her wand and the odd sensation comes over me again.

I can feel a silencing spell fall over us as Nymphadora jumps off the couch and aims her wand at my chest. A green light streaks toward me; I notice a small movement out of the corner of my eyes as Hermione flicks her wrist and places a Protego charm between me and the killing curse. She then plants herself firmly in front of me with her wand pointed at my niece.

“You are going to have to put up more of a fight if you want to get to Bellatrix,” Hermione says; her voice is eerily calm.

“I can’t believe you, Hermione! I trusted you, Mom trusted you, and you bring a known mass murderer into our house without our knowledge.”

“I told you she’s changed.”

“Even if she has what gives you the right to bring her into this house? Think about Mom and how she will feel if she finds out Bellatrix is here.”

“That’s who I am doing this for, Tonks! Dromeda and Bellatrix; not you, so back off.”

“What did you just say to me?”

Nymphadora’s eyes briefly flash red before she sends a stunning spell at Hermione. Hermione blocks it and counters. I am left watching as the two engage in a duel that is becoming increasingly heated. I don’t want to take out my wand and risk Nymphadora interpreting it the wrong way.

As I wait for the two to calm down and stop I take the opportunity to watch Hermione in a real duel. The last time I saw her in a fight was when I dueled her and Ms. Weasley, and she wasn’t even trying then, that much is clear as Tonks struggles to keep up. Give her a few more years and she could give Professor McGonagall a decent run for her money.

A misaimed spell shoots past Hermione’s shoulder and directly at Teddy. Before either women notice I summon my magic and create a protective bubble around the child. The sound of the spell bouncing off  my protective charm and hitting a shelf stops Hermione and Nymphadora in their tracks.

Hermione turns around and glances from Teddy to me and back again. Nymphadora looks shocked and frightened. 

“She isn’t even using her wand,” Hermione mumbles more to herself than anyone else. The amazement in her tone is evident.

“Are you two finished?” I ask. “Or are you hell bent on injuring the one innocent person in this room?”

Nymphadora is still staring blankly at me. Hermione looks at her. “Please give Bellatrix a chance Tonks. For Dromeda.”

 My niece finally reacts by glancing at her son still encased in the protective spell and then back at me. "Bellatrix."

"Nymphadora," I nod my head toward her.

She crosses the room toward her son and I end my spell. I watch her pick up Teddy as she removes the silencing spell that she cast on the room. Hermione comes and stands next to me. She squeezes my hand quickly before letting go.

"Everything okay in there, Mom? You’re taking a while,” Tonks yells.

“Everything is fine dear. I got carried away tiding up the kitchen,” My sister replies. The quietness of her voice indicates she is on her way into the room.

"I made some..." My stomach lurches as my little sister appears. Her eyes land on me and the tray in her hands slips. I hear Hermione mutter the spell to catch it before it hits the ground as my attention begins to narrow in on the woman standing in the entrance of the living room.

Her hands dart to her mouth and I step forward. "Hello Dromeda."

"Bellatrix.” I watch as she automatically responds by taking out her wand and pointing it at me. My heart sinks at her actions, but I find a small smile turning the edge of my lips as Hermione defensively steps in front of me once more: her wand at her side.

“We’ve already covered this,” Tonks informs her mother quietly.

“I don’t understand,” My sister puts her wand away and Hermione goes and sits on the couch; followed by Tonks and Teddy. “You can’t be here; you died, and even if you didn’t you wouldn’t be here. I haven’t seen you in decades.”

 “But I am.” I must have said the right thing, because Dromeda rushes over to me and hugs me. At first I am shocked, but I quickly respond by wrapping my arms around her and kissing her head. I notice Nymphadora and Hermione leaving out of the corner of my eye. Dromeda begins to shake in my arms and I pull her closer to me. "I thought you died...I...You left Bella...We needed you and...Died..."

"Shhh. I know." She begins to cry harder, and I tighten my grip on her. "I'm not going anywhere this time. I promise."

"I needed you...I was so young...and Daddy...and you were gone."

"I'm sorry," Everything inside me is shattering. "I'm so sorry little angel." Dromeda lifts her head from my shoulder and looks at me. The tears and pain on her face is like a stab at my soul. Squeezing me Dromeda pulls out of our embrace  and wipes away her tears.

"It's been a while since you called me your little angel." There is a sad smile playing on her lips.

"You've always been my little angel, Andromeda. I've missed you.”

“And I’ve missed you, but you have to understand this is all so confusing.”

I nod, “You have to believe me when I say I’ve wanted to let you know I am still alive. I guess I just needed a little push. We both have Hermione to thank for that." My mind wanders back to Hermione, and I realize that she is constantly nudging me in positive directions that I can’t go by myself.

Dromeda takes my hand in hers and whispers in my ear, "I knew there was still my big sister left in you somewhere." I look at her and smile. "Tonks, can you come back in here?"

Nymphadora re-enters the room cautiously followed by Hermione who is holding Teddy. I lock eyes with Hermione and the twinkle I find is overwhelming. "Yeah, Mom?"

"Sit. We are going to have some long awaited family time with your aunt." Nymphadora takes a seat in one of the recliners and Hermione sits on the couch. I take a seat next to Hermione and watch Teddy  tug at Hermione’s hair.

“Do you want to hold him?” Hermione asks me quietly. I look at her and nod. Glancing up I can see how tense Nymphadora is.

“That is, if it is all right with you Nymphadora.” I can tell she is struggling to keep her expression as emotionless as possible. She turns her attention to Dromeda who nods at her.

“Okay. Please call me Tonks though. Not because I suddenly like you, but because I detest my name.”

“Fair enough.”  I smile at her and take Teddy in my arms. He beams up at me and begins to make cooing sounds. I can’t help but watch with amusement as he jabbers away while he plays with my necklace.

“Bella,” I look up at Hermione, “Why don’t you tell us about the past year or so. I think Dromeda and Tonks have the right to know what is going on.”

I nod at Hermione and then look up at my sister and my niece. “It all started the night I followed Cissy to  Severus Snape’s…”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Story:** When Everything Changed

 **Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

 **Rated:** M

 **Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.**

**A/N 3: Not the original. Revised and Reposted.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________**

**Hermione’s POV**

“Do you miss him?”

“Who?” Bella asks. Her dark eyes are locked with mine. I long to reach out and caress her cheek; to hold her and  kiss her. After my conversation with Professor McGonagall I can no longer deny my growing attraction to Bellatrix. However, no matter how much I want to express this attraction I have to remember that the feeling are not mutual. Also there is still the small detail that I am in a relationship with Ron.

"Rodulphus." Her husband.

She opens her mouth and tries to speak, but no words come out so she closes it again. I watch as her eyes become distant and the emotions of memories wash across her face. When she is still lost in thought after a few minutes I take her hand in mine.

Bella subtly shakes her head and quietly says, "No, no I don't." Relief washes over me and I push it away. This changes nothing, yet somewhere in the back of my mind a little voice says, _yes it does._ I should be curious why Bellatrix reacted the way she did, and I am, but my curiosity is being overridden by other emotions.  "Hermione?"

"Hmmm," I return my eyes to Bella, but I am forced to look away from her. She is so breathtaking, and my urge to kiss her is overwhelming.

"You all right?"

"Yeah, fine." I don't have to look at her to know that she is not satisfied with my answer.

I smile as Teddy crawls toward us on the floor. I know the only reason Tonks was willing to leave is because I am here. Her distrust for Bellatrix is obvious and she doesn't bother to hide it. This does not seem to bother Bella though. I know that she believes that she should be treated horribly and that thought breaks my heart.

What has happened to Bellatrix that molded her into the person she is today? “Why don’t you miss him?” My voice comes out in barely more than a whisper.

I observe as she debates with herself. Seeming lost and confused. Shakily I raise my hand to her face wanting to comfort her, wanting to bring her back to the present. When my hand makes contact with her soft skin she yanks back pulling away from me completely.

I fold my arms over my chest and look down knowing that I’ve crossed the line. Teddy is at my feet playing with my pant leg. He looks up at me with big ever changing eyes and a smile on his face. I can’t help but beam at his one toothed grin and hair that constantly changes color. He is too cute. I pick him up and bounce him up and down in my lap so he will stay still.

 I glance at Bellatrix. She is watching me closely with guilt on her face.

The front door opens and shuts. Bags crinkle in the kitchen and I know Tonks is home. I can leave. Standing up I exit the room without looking at Bella.

When I reach the kitchen I pass Teddy to Tonks. With a quick look at me her face becomes worried. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” I reply quietly. Her eyes flicker toward the hallway suspicion within them. As I make my way toward the door I catch a glimpse of Bellatrix’s reflection in the window. She is leaning against the wall in the hallway just out of sight of Tonks. Sadness and regret are flashing through her eyes, but I ignore it and leave the house before my mind persuades me to go back and comfort her.

  
**  
Ron holds the door to the pub open for me. I thank him then follow him to the bar where he finds us two free seats at the end. For once I am grateful I am old enough to drink because I need it. Ron orders us two fire whiskeys. He takes my hand and I focus my attention on him. “I’m glad you agreed to go out tonight. You’ve been so distant lately I have been worried.” Guilt floods me. I’ve been so wrapped up in Bella, finding a job, and life that I have neglected Ron.

“I’ve just had a lot on my mind.” I can’t remember the last time Ron and I have sat down alone together and talked. The only time I’ve really seen him is in bed, and most of the time he’s already asleep before I slip into the room.

The bartender brings us our drinks and we sit in silence. The liquid burns my throat and reminds me why I rarely drink.

“Do you want to dance?” I shrug and follow him onto the dance floor.

After one song I am ready to return to my drink. Ron spent the whole time rubbing against me. I could feel him getting turned on and I tried to act like I was too, but I couldn’t.

I return to my seat and order another drink as Ron sits next to me. I look at him. I gaze into his eyes and feel nothing.

A drink is placed in front of me and I stare into it as I pick at the coaster beneath it. Suddenly Bella smiling and laughing floods my vision. The edges of my lips curl. The image transforms to the loving expression on Bella’s face the first time she held Teddy.  I can see the concern in her eyes when I took a huge chunk out of my arm after splinching. I can detect a ghost pressure of her hand in mine and her arms around me.

I look up at Ron, and realize I have to end this. It has less to do with Bellatrix and more to do with the fact that our relationship is not healthy and never has been. I have been prolonging it because he is my best friend, but in the process I’ve been hurting both of us.

Standing up I start to walk away, my mind is too consumed in my new discovery to notice my surroundings, and I am stopped by a hand on my arm. Turning to its owner I am face to face with Ron. “Where are you going?” He yells over the music.

“I can’t do this anymore,” I say and then walk out of the pub. It takes me a few minutes to notice that Ron has followed me outside. It has started to sprinkle and I try to focus on him but my mind keeps wandering.

“Let’s just go home then.”

“No Ron, there’s no us. I can’t do _us_. What I am trying to say is that it’s over Ron.”

“You’re breaking up with me? After all we have been through? After all I’ve stuck with you through?” His expression changes from anger to defeat. “Just tell me one thing Hermione. Why?”

I know he deserves the truth. The complete truth, but I don’t know if I can give it to him. “I’m in love with someone else.” He nods and hangs his head.

I can barely hear him when he says, “Who?”

“A stranger,” I reply and walk away.  It pains me to know that my answer is true. I’ve fallen in love with someone I hardly know.

 

**  
When I open my eyes rain obscures my vision. I can make out the faint outline of Hogwarts in the distance and the lights of Hogsmeade. I feel as if I have aged fifty years in mere seconds. My past is catching up to me at a time when I am split between sorrow over the death of a relationship and a newfound sense of freedom.

The rain has already chilled me to the bone, but there is a cold running through me that reaches far deeper than the rain ever could. I begin to walk aimlessly as I think about what I have just given up by leaving Ron: security, love, protection, and a home. All for a flicker of hope; a new life that I could have. But that new life is already starting to look empty.

I remind myself I have made the right choice.

I find myself at the castle entrance. I try to open the heavy wooden doors and they are locked as I suspected. Creating a patronus I embed my message into it and watch as the otter soars to one of the highest towers where the headmistress’ office resides.

I wait for about five minutes until I hear the creaking of thousands of old locks coming to life. The doors burst open and Professor McGonagall appears. Her silhouette stands centered, bathed in the dim light of the Entrance Hall. She grabs my icy hand and drags me inside. “Look at you, you’re soaked.” Professor McGonagall waves her wand and a gust of warm air hits me at full force.

I follow her through the familiar halls in silence. Different places bring back many memories. Filling me with a longing for the past. When decisions were a tad bit easier and we always had the protection of this castle.

Professor McGonagall gives the gargoyle the password and steps aside so I can step onto the moving staircase. Once we are inside her office she pulls me into an embrace and holds me closely. The longer I stay in her arms the smaller my fears, insecurities, and uncertainties seem to be.

I can sense eyes piercing my skin. I let go of Professor McGonagall and glance around the room but there is no one else here. I am about to mention this to her when a pair of kind, twinkling, blue eyes lock with mine. I smile at the familiar face observing us from his post above Professor McGonagall’s desk. Long silver beard, crooked nose, and amusement and knowledge shining in his eyes; it is always a pleasure to be around Professor Dumbledore.

It feels as if he can see right through me and into the heart of my problems. I have no doubt that he can even if he only remains in a portrait.

“Miss Granger,” his quiet, caring voice puts me at ease, “It is nice to see you.”

“It is nice to see you too Professor.” Heat is radiating off of Professor McGonagall who is standing right behind me.

“I sense that you are troubled my dear, however, I am pleased.”

“Why is that?” I ask having no clue what I could have done to please him.

“Because you came to Hogwarts seeking love and nurture. I must say you have come to the perfect place. I also believe without the knowledge of what brought you here, Hermione.”

I return my eyes to his and he gives me a warm smile. Full of love, encouragement, amusement, and everything I miss.

Professor McGonagall puts a hand on my back. “Please sit down, Hermione.” I do as she requests and she takes a seat in the chair next to me. “Now tell me,” she pauses and glances up at Professor Dumbledore, “and Albus what is wrong.”

“Don’t worry it will be as if I am not here,” Dumbledore says causing me to smile again.

“I broke up with Ron.”

“I always thought you were too smart for him. Harry would have been a better match for you.” Professor McGonagall rolls her eyes at Dumbledore and I smirk at her.

 “I am guessing you are afraid of what will happen next.”

I remain silent for a moment trying to process all of my thoughts. “What do I do now? I can’t stay with Ron that much is obvious. But the person I want, that I need…”

“Bella.” I nod.

“Bellatrix Lestrange? She used to be such a sweet girl, under that tough exterior of course, when she first came to Hogwarts. I’ve always wondered what happened to her to change her. I knew bits and pieces of what happened. Influences and home life. She was always a very private girl. If I remember correctly, Minerva, you took her under your wing while she attended school here.”

“Your memory is as sharp as usual Albus.” Her comment makes him smile and then he turns to me.

“Oh right, please do carry on Miss Granger. If I must say so your life is even more fascinating now that you are out of Hogwarts. I’ve always had the feeling it would be.” A faint blush creeps onto my cheeks.

“She could never feel the same way for me as I do for her.”

“And she has told you this herself?”

“No, but…”

“You will never know until you ask. There is a reason Bellatrix fell out of her evil ways Hermione, and a large part of it has to do with you. I think... I know that there is more to Bella than meets the eye.”

“What am I supposed to do? She doesn’t want to see me. I hurt her…I…” Images of the sadness on her face when I left her this afternoon come back to me.

Professor McGonagall’s voice pulls me out of my mind. “You hurt her dear? Last time I checked it takes a lot to hurt Bellatrix Lestrange. I believe that you hurt each other.”

I open my mouth to ask how she knew that, but close it when no words will form. “The truth is written clearly on your face.”

“She’s right. I can see it too.” Professor McGonagall turns to Dumbledore with a hint of irritation in her features. This only serves the purpose to amuse him more.

“What should I do?”

“What should you do? You should go to her. Spend time with her. Get to know the real Bella and don’t give up if she seems stubborn, if she refuses to divulge her feelings and her past. She will in time. There is one thing you need above all else when dealing with Bellatrix, and that is patience.”

“I’ve figured that out already.” She smiles at me.

“If she doesn’t want to talk to you right away at least you will have a place to stay. I know Dromeda, and she would never turn you away.”

“You could always stay at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore suggests. “You would make a great teacher Miss Granger, with the proper training, and then Minerva could stop multitasking between her duties as Headmistress and her duties as the Transfiguration Professor and Head of Gryffindor.”

“Why haven’t you hired anyone else?” Suddenly I feel guilty for coming here to talk about my meager problems.

“No one properly quietly has applied for the position. And don’t worry about me dear I can manage. And as for you, Albus, it is not your job to hand out teaching positions anymore.”

“I was merely hinting.”

“She wouldn’t…” “I wouldn’t”  Professor McGonagall and I say at the same time.

“She wouldn’t let me teach here Professor Dumbledore. I know Professor McGonagall well enough to know that she wants me to explore life, and once I have I’m certain if I came back Professor McGonagall would be more than willing to give me a job. If you need me though and are willing to hire me I would take the job now. You need time to relax too.”

“I appreciate the offer, Hermione, but I will have to decline for now. After describing how I fell about the subject word for word I fear you are getting to know me too well my love. ”

“Maybe I am,” I reply and give her a hug. I walk to the door and throw over my shoulder, “Thanks for the help, both of you,” Before leaving.

  
**  
I stand waiting at Dromeda’s door. The wind has picked up and is fiercely blowing through my soaked clothes. I hear shuffling behind the door and then it is opened. Tonks ushers me in and puts a finger over her lips before pointing at Teddy. I nod.

Drying myself off I wait for Tonks to return from putting her son in his crib.

I hear muffled footsteps and Tonks comes in and motions for me to take a seat at the table. “It is late, is everything okay? Are the Weasleys okay?”

“Everything is fine, well I broke up with Ron, but everything is fine. I was hoping I could stay here for a few days.”

“Of course. As long as you have no problem with Bellatrix being here as well.”

“How long is she staying for?”

“So you do have a problem with it.”

“No, of course not, I was just curious. She has been wandering for so long I am just trying to figure out whether or not she is staying.”

“As far as I know as long as she wants. Why did you break up with Ron?”

I send her a sad smile, “It’s complicated.”

She gazes into my eyes for a moment, “Complicated and has to do with my aunt.”

“Are you two getting along better?”

“As well as can be expected. It’s only been a few weeks after all.” Tonks raises an eyebrow at me. “You’re not even going to attempt to deny liking Bellatrix?”

“Why should I deny what is true?”

“I see.”

“What do you see?”

“Nothing.”

“Come on Tonks what do you see?”

“Nothing.”

“Then why did you say that?”

“Oh sweetie, I see _something_. It is dancing around on your face, but it is nothing you don’t know already.”

“What is it?” She smirks. She is taking pleasure in annoying me.

“Love.” I watch her in shock, which only makes her smile wider.

“If you wanted to see Bellatrix you are a few hours too late to talk to her tonight.”

“Oh.”

“You don’t want to know why?”

“You seem to want to tell me why so please enlighten me.”

“You bet I do. I can’t fathom how you could love my aunt…ugh…maybe this will make you love her less. I’ve discovered tonight that she is an alcoholic.”

“What?”

“You heard me. An alcoholic. As soon as you left she drank until she passed out at the table. At seven o’clock! Mom had to levitate her to her room. Of course I refused to do it, and thought it would be hysterical to leave her face first in her uneaten bowl of ice cream.”

I roll my eyes at Tonks. “I’m sure you did.”

“I have a theory.”

I wait for her to tell me but when she doesn’t continue I take the bait, “What is your theory Tonks?”

“That she is hiding her alcohol dependency from you so you will still like her, which leaves me having to take care of her. I didn’t sign up for that.”

“You didn’t take care of her Dromeda did.”

“Minor detail.”

“Where is Bella’s room?” Despite Tonks’ light mood I feel guilty that Bellatrix drank herself into a stupor.

“Upstairs second door on your left.” I stand up and make my way to the staircase which leads down into the kitchen. “If you were thinking about fooling around with her tonight I would change your plans because she is dead to the world.”

I turn and face Tonks. The carefree, happy expression on her face causes me to hold back my comment. She is having fun acting like a teenager and it has been so long since I have seen her genuinely smile there is not a comment she could make in this world that would cause me to wipe that grin off her face.

I follow Tonks’ directions and quietly open the bedroom door. Bella is curled up in the center of the bed.  Sitting down on the edge of the bed I remove my shoes. I crawl under the covers, and mold my body to Bellatrix’s. As I slide an arm around her waist she sighs and links our fingers together.

Smiling I close my eyes and bury my face in Bella’s back knowing that this will be the best night’s sleep I have gotten in a very long time.


	7. Chapter 7

Story: When Everything Changed  
Summary: Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG  
Rated: M  
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.  
A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.  
A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.  
A/N 3: Not the original. Revised and Reposted.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________  
Bellatrix’s POV  
There is hair in my face. Groaning I open my eyes and a blanket of light brown hair can be seen. It takes me a moment to realize that it is too light to be my hair. Brushing it out of my face I turn my head to the side and my stomach drops. Hermione is lying in bed next to me: sound asleep. There is a pounding in my head and it only increases as I try to remember what happened last night. Why is Hermione here?  
Carefully I get out of bed. Grabbing some clothes I head for the shower. I shouldn’t have gotten drunk last night. I should never get drunk it only brings back haunting memories and fills me with self-pity.  
Turning on the water I step into it. It is warm and soothing. My mind wanders back to Hermione. What is she doing here? I hurt her.   
It felt so right having her warm boy curled up against mine. I could wake up like that every day. I push the stray thought away, but it keeps coming back. Thinking further back I realize there have been times when I’ve wanted to hold her in my arms. When I’ve contemplated falling asleep at night with Hermione next to me.  
My thoughts may be innocent at the moment, but they are not right. Hermione is so young. Younger than my own niece. Our friendship unstable and I would luck if we could ever be proper friends. Yet, when I am with her none of that matters. It doesn’t seem like she is any younger than me when we talk. I’ve never thought of her as anything less than an equal.  
It wish I could talk to Hermione about this; once I open up to her what is bothering me is no longer as heavy of a burden. I have so many issues though, and I have done so many things that I would never tell Hermione about, because she would leave. I always wonder what makes her waste her time on me while I sit and watch her twinkling eyes and loving smile.  
Turning off the shower I get dressed and ready for the day. Quietly I walk downstairs. Dromeda is busy in the kitchen making breakfast. “Good morning Bella.” She says too loudly for my sensitive ears.  
I mumble back “Morning.” And take a seat at the table. I am cradling my head in my hands afraid that at any moment it will split in two when I hear footsteps coming down the stairs and Dromeda sets a potion in front of me for my head. “Thanks” Taking a swig of the foul tasting potion there it is an instant relief.   
“Hermione dear, I didn’t know that you were here,” Dromeda says. I look up at Hermione whose eyes are locked on me. She sends me a shy smile. I nod at her and decided it is best if I ignore the fact that I woke up in bed with her.  
I return my attention to the thick, brown, disgusting potion that is in the glass I am holding, and wonder how something that looks so repulsive and uninviting can take away so much pain.   
“I came over late last night. Tonks said it was okay if I spent the night. I hope you don’t mind,” I keep my eyes focused downward as I pay rapt attention to the conversation taking place beside me.  
“That’s perfectly all right. Is everything okay?”  
“Fine. I broke up with Ron and decided it was best if I found another place to stay until I can get my own place.” My head shoots up at her comment. I examine her closely trying to judge her mood.  
“I’m sorry sweetie. Feel free to stay here as long as you like.”  
“Thank you.” Hermione turns and locks eyes with me before I have time to divert my gaze. She weakly smiles at me and this time I can’t help but smile back. I watch as the nervousness seeps from her expression. Never have I seen without worry and guilt, however, in this moment I catch sight of it and it’s nice. She is beautiful.  
I need to stop having thoughts like that.   
Hermione takes a seat next to me. In a low voice she says, “Can we talk?”  
“After breakfast.” She nods.  
“Are you feeling better sis?” Dromeda asks.  
“Much. You are a life saver. You know that right?”  
She chuckles. “I try to help when I can. Luckily for you there is a simple cure for hangovers.” This causes Hermione to snort. She quickly covers her mouth with her hand to avoid spewing coffee all over the table. I raise an eyebrow at her and she blushes.  
“Do you want some coffee?” Hermione asks.  
“I’ll try some.”   
Her eyes go wide in disbelief. “You’ve never had coffee before?”  
I shake my head no, “There have always been other things to drink.”  
I think she understands what I am hinting at. Coffee is a muggle drink. She hands me her cup. “Here.”  
I take a sip. Warm liquid rushes into my mouth, it is bitter even with sugar and leaves a funny aftertaste in my mouth. I scrunch my face and Hermione smirks. Even though it is gross I feel a need for another sip.   
Hermione rolls her eyes at me. “I knew you would like it.”  
I give her back her cup. “I don’t.”  
“If you say so.”  
“Breakfast is ready.” I get up and Hermione follows suit. I motion for her to sit back down. She sends me a questioning look.  
I retrieve two plates and fill them with food. I set one in front of Hermione and then sit back down. “Thanks.”  
“No problem.”  
“Hey Dromeda where’s Tonks?” Hermione asks after my sister joins us at the table.  
“She had to go in early for work. Which reminds me the post came and there was a letter for you.” She reaches back and then passes Hermione the parchment. She opens it and I watch as her hazel eyes scan the page.  
“What is it?”  
“I have an interview for the auror position I applied for next week.”  
Dromeda smiles, “That’s great!” I nod in agreement.  
Finishing my food I take care of my plate and wander outside to wait for Hermione. Wanting privacy I move around the side of the house and take a seat under the tree next to the garden. I hear the screen door close. After a few minutes Hermione appears. She sits in front of me and crosses her legs.  
Her eyes search me and make me want to squirm under their gaze. “I think you did the right thing,” I say quietly. All morning I could sense her uneasiness and have had a feeling she has been questioning her choice in leaving Ron. Why wouldn’t she? He was her safety net and one of her best friends.  
“I do to. I’m still just...I can’t explain.” I nod.  
“I wouldn’t expect you to be able to. From what you’ve told Mr. Weasley has been an important part of your life for a very long time.” When Hermione focuses her attention back on me there is such a mixture of emotions in her eyes I can’t decipher them all. Some I recognize but a few I’m not certain I want to know.  
She nods her head. I notice her eyes glossing over as they fill with tears. I don’t know what to do. I want to reach out and comfort her, but I don’t want to make her nervous. Will I make her nervous? She was in my bed this morning. She clears her throat, “About last night, or this morning I guess. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable by sleeping in your bed.”  
I doubt she would enjoy hearing that I’m wishing I could start the morning over and hold her in my arms while she sleeps. “You didn’t,” She raises an eyebrow at me. “It’s not like we haven’t slept in the same bed before.” Once and possibly again? Her expression conveys that she is slightly more convinced.  
“I’m also sorry about yesterday. I shouldn’t have...”  
“Don’t apologize.” She looks surprised. “The past is the past. If you can put aside what I’ve done and try to be friends with me I can forget something as small as a touch. I overreacted and I’m sorry.”  
“Okay.” She appears to be confused yet relieved. I can tell her mind is wander as her eyes become distant. I’m not going to make the same mistake she did yesterday.   
Instead I wait. I look at her hands. I could reach out and take one but I am hesitant. Hermione is always the one to reach out. Would she feel differently if I reached out to her? I gaze at her hand for a few more seconds and then glance at her. She is still lost in though. Cautiously I reach my hand out and let it hover over hers. When she doesn’t respond negatively, or at all, I rest my hand on hers.  
She comes back from where ever she was and glances at our intertwined fingers. Her eyes lock with mine as a smile appears on her face. She links our fingers and gives my hand a squeeze. I can’t stop a small smile from becoming present on my face.  
Hermione slides a little closer to me. “You know Bella. You seem to know a lot about me, but I don’t know that much about you.” I stop breathing for a moment as panic seizes me. This is the moment I’ve been dreading. Stay calm; maybe you can give her small facts.  
“What do you want to know?” That was a bad idea. I shouldn’t have said that. I can’t take it back now can I?  
She opens her mouth and then closes it and reconsiders. “What was it like growing up as a Black?” Difficult subject. I try not to wince. I don’t have to tell her everything just enough.  
“We’ll I’m certain you already know that from talking with…talking with Sirius, or Dromeda.”  
“Not really. Harry probably does.” It is a torture like no other, being able to feel. Sirius' face when I hit him with Avada Kedavra floats in front of my eyes. I can feel my lungs constricting. My own flesh and blood! How could I? I’m a monster; I was a monster. Is that person still somewhere inside of me?  
I look at Hermione. I try to see what she sees in me, but all I can see is a murderer, a liar, and a betrayer. “Bella you don’t have to answer. I didn’t realize the question was so personal.”  
I rip my hand from Hermione’s and hurt flashes across her face. What is wrong with me? Every little thing is a trigger. “How do you do it Hermione?” I ask in a shaky voice. “How do you look at me and see anything other than what everyone else does or did? How can you even look at me?” Shock spreads across her face. She reaches out for me but I move from her reach.  
“Bella you saved my life.”  
“So that’s it? One good deed erases the millions of others?”  
“What do you mean that’s it?” Her voice remains calm even though mine is starting to go up. “You’ve saved countless numbers of people by helping stop Voldemort.”  
“I took countless others including my own flesh and blood.” She’s tries to reach out for me again, but I refuse to let her touch me. She shifts grabbing my wrist and I try to get out of her grasp. “I’m a murderer,” I can see their faces full of pain and fear. The old, the women, the children, the parents, the innocent, and I didn’t care. Hermione grabs my other wrist and straddles my legs so that we are face to face.  
“Look at me.” I can’t. I should be dead. Not here “Bella.” I let my body slack. I know I should be dead. Nobody like me deserves a second chance. I gaze into her eyes defeated. “You’ve changed. You are not the same person as the one who’s memory haunts you. You are better than that. You would never take a life. I know you wouldn’t.”  
“How do you know? You see the person you want to see. What if I haven’t changed? What if I can’t change?”   
I’ve convinced myself that living the way I used to would be easier, and maybe it would be, but eventually I know it would all catch up with me. What if I haven’t changed? What if one day all that anger, and all that hate come back and morph me back into a state of numbness. Everything was like a film play out before me. Nothing mattered; no one mattered because I was safe. Not their fear or their pain those emotions only encouraged me.  
A soft, strong hand on my face guides me out of my thoughts. Hermione’s worried eyes are watching me closely. “You have changed, Bella. I know you can’t see it but I can, and I want to help you see it too.”  
For the first time I notice how close she is to me. The warmth of her body against mine is familiar and comforting. I can feel my body temperature rise a few degrees as I think about her body touching mine. Her lips are only a few inches away from mine now, and when I look into her eyes I can see she is noticing the same thing I am. Neither of us tries to pull away.  
My eyes flicker down to her lips. What would she do if I kissed her? If I brushed her lips with mine to find out whether they are really as soft as they appear? I allow my eyes to wander back up to hers. They hold hope and confusion.

Where is this coming from all of a sudden? I have enjoyed being close to Hermione, but I never thought I wanted to do more than hold her in my arms. It does not matter what I want I know nothing can happen. She refuses to see the bad in me and I can see nothing else within myself. 

However, that does not mean Hermione has to move from her spot on my lap. When I re-enter the world from my cloud of thoughts I notice that Hermione's eyes are no longer focused on mine, but on my lips.

I can hear voices coming from the bottom of the driveway; just out of sight. Hermione and I scramble apart and stand as far away from each other as possible. I recognize two of the voices to belong to Potter and Weasley, but the third is only vaguely familiar. "Bella, get inside."

I look at Hermione. "No." She raises an eyebrow at me. "Not until I know what they want and that you are safe."

"Fine, but get out their line of view before Harry..." It's too late. The boxes the three were levitating crash to the ground as their eyes rest upon me. 

As the two red headed boys sputter at the sight of me a cry of outrage escapes Potter which brings the others to their senses. "YOU DIDN'T DIE? AFTER ALL YOU DID AND YOU'RE STILL NOT DEAD! AFTER SIRIUS..." His voice cracks. He whips out his wand as he advances on me and the other boys follow suit. "Hermione get away from her she'll hurt you." Harry says. My eyes dart toward Hermione who is slowly inching toward me.

I reach for my wand and realize I left it upstairs. "Shit," I mumble. A shield charm erupts from Hermione's wand so strong it forces both Potter and I back.

"Hermione what are you doing?" Harry looks bewildered and so don't the other two boys. Wait, no, men?

"Hermione you're not...protecting her are you?" Comes Ron's gentle voice. I can hear the love and sadness in his tone. Hermione's attention is drawn to him and her shield falters as she loses focus.  
All of the men take advantage of this, even Ron, who does it half-heartedly. Before I can move I have three stunning charms flying at me. Before I can summon a blocking charm Hermione screams and it is over. 

I stare down in disbelief at Hermione's limp body. She blocked the spells. She jumped in front of me and used her body as a shield. Harry, Ron, and the other Weasley are looking just as surprised as I feel. Getting down on my knees I check her pulse and let out a sigh of relief when I find there still is one.

“Y…You get away from her.” Ron says shakily. Glancing up at him I can see his wand pointed down at me. I move to pick her up, “I’m warning you!”

“Mr. Weasley,” my voice makes all three young men jump, “Take her wand, and you can keep your wands on me, but we need to get Hermione inside. Dromeda used to work as a healer. She will know what to do.” I slide my arms under Hermione easily.

“I’ll do it,” Ron says and I ignore him.

Lifting her I hold her close to me. I am gripped by fear. I could care less about the fact that I am unarmed and there are three wands pointed at my back. Hermione protected me and look what happened. This is my fault. “Can one of you open the door?” I can feel Harry’s eyes burning a hole in my back. However he will not strike while Hermione’s life is at risk. Truthfully I won’t defend myself if he does. 

Ron rushes forward and opens the door. “Dromeda!” I call out as soon as I step through the door.  
“Dromeda!”

“For heaven’s sake Bella you don’t have to yell I’m not…” At the sight of Hermione she rushes over, “What’s happened?” She briefly scans her new guests.

“Stunning spells. Three,” Is all I can manage to say as my worry increases.

“Oh my…” She says quietly. “Bring her upstairs to your room. Boy’s if you could help me bring up a few books.” They nod but it is obvious they are not willing to leave me alone with Hermione.  
I take the first step and move towards the stairs. I tighten my grip on the unconscious form in my arms. I manage to carry Hermione up the stairs without and major difficulties. Carefully I set her on the bed, but I am reluctant to let her go. "Bella," Dromeda's kind voice says quietly. I turn to her but avoid her eyes. I know that she can read me like a book and I do not need to give her any more evidence for the underlining suspicion in her voice. "Go wait downstairs sweetie." I nod but don't move. Instead I gaze at Hermione. The guilt and fear is overwhelming. "Bella."

My legs are lead and the door seems to be moving further away as I try to make my way through it. When I finally make it into the hallway I collapse against the wall and sink to the floor. A bitter laugh escapes me. Maybe now she will believe that being around me isn't worth it.

 

**  
After hitting my face with cold water to calm down I make my way back to the bedroom. I hear a male voice talking and stop in the doorway. I am hidden from view of anyone in the dark room. "What have you gotten yourself into Hermione?" The voice belongs to Mr. Weasley. Everyone else has gone home. "I don't know why you were defending her, but you must have seen something in her. The problem is people like her, people like Bellatrix Lestrange cannot change."

Quietly I step into the room. "I was trying to convince her of the same thing before you showed up Mr. Weasley.” I see his silhouette jump in shock.

He mutters "Lumos," and points the light at me. It is blinding, but I do not look away. 

The sight of Hermione brings tears back to my eyes and my effort to hide them is in vain. Ron is in shock. "She refused to listen." Crossing the room I kneel next to the bed.

I can feel his eyes examining me but I don't care. All I can think about is Hermione. My eyes wander over her angelic features. She is so pale.

"Maybe she was right," Ron's voice startles me. I turn to meet his eyes, but he has already gotten up and is leaving the room. 

Sighing I allow my eyes to focus back on Hermione. "Don't worry Hermione he's not going anywhere any time soon. He'll always be your friend even if he is a git sometimes."

 

**  
Opening my eyes I wonder if this is it. If this is the day that Hermione will wake up. It has been three days. Dromeda said she should be fine, that her body is only resting, but still there are no guarantees.  
The first thing I note is Hermione has rolled over. I am pressed against her back and have no inclination to move. However, someone has chosen this moment to knock on the door and I am forced to break away from her. 

Getting up I grab my wand and do a quick cleaning spell leaving me ready for the day. I open the door and Dromeda bustles in with her supplies. I watch closely as she examines Hermione. She sees my hopeful expression and smile at me. "Is she...”

"Sleeping." Dromeda announces cheerfully causing a smile to appear on my face. I take my seat leaning against the wall next to her on the bed. "Harry, Ron, and George are here." I nod. "Should I tell them to come up?" I ask as I think about having to face Potter and see the rage in his eyes one more time. 

"Let's wait and see what she wants." I hide my relief and smile at the fact I will get to be the first person to spend time with Hermione.

Dromeda examines me with a knowing eye. "Be careful with her, Bella." I raise an eyebrow at her and nod. I am hoping that she isn't thinking what I believe she is.

I focus my unwavering attention on Hermione and after five minutes she stirs and lets out a groan. I scramble up to her side. "Hermione?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Story:** When Everything Changed

 **Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

 **Rated:** M

 **Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.**

**A/N 3: Not the original. Revised and Reposted.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________**

**Hermione’s POV**

“Hermione?” My head is pounding and every muscle in my body screams in protest as I shift my body slightly. “Hermione?” I let out a groan and crack my eyes open. Someone is leaning over me, but they are blurred by sleep. “Hermione, can you hear me?”

Blinking a few times some of the fog lifts from my vision. Dark brown eyes filled with concern are gazing down at me. I lift my arm which is heavy with fatigue and place a shaky hand on soft skin. “Bella?” I ask. My voice is thick and croaky, and my tongue feels much too large for my mouth. I hear a sigh of relief and stroke her cheek with my thumb. She places her warm hand over mine. Squeezing my eyes shut and then re-opening them my surroundings come into focus.

Bellatrix is paler than usual. I cannot suppress my shock as Bellatrix leans into me and carefully pulls me into a hug. Her arms are strong, yet gentle, and soothing. I slide my arms around her and the feel of her toned back muscles excites me contrary to the situation. I tighten my grip on her. Bella’s warm breath tickles my ear as she whispers, “Don’t ever do that again. You scared me!”

Despite the significance of this moment  I let out a weak chuckle and squeeze the woman in my arms as I ignore my body’s constant pleas to stop. “Why Bella, you should be careful; for a moment there it almost seemed like you care.”

She pulls away from me and raises an eyebrow in question. She examines me and I struggle to keep a straight face. Her eyes begin to twinkle. “Only about you, but don’t tell anyone,” she says in a hushed tone as she winks at me. This small gesture sends shivers down my spine. A dazzling smile appears on her face and she shifts so that she is laying next to me with her head propped up in her hand.

I send her a huge grin and reply, “I won’t.” I attempt to turn on my side so that we are facing each other but a searing pain fills every inch of my body. I bite my bottom lip so hard I can taste the metallic flavor of blood in my mouth as I try to hold back screams of pain.

“What’s wrong?” I shake my head as tears form in my eyes. I can’t stop myself from writhing in agony as the torture refuses to stop.”I’m going to get Dromeda,” Bella says with alarm. My senses are becoming clouded and it is getting harder and harder to focus on anything besides the intense burning running through me. “Plus Potter and the Weasleys will be happy to see you.” I can tell she is trying to convince herself that whatever is happening to me at the moment is not serious.

“No.” I manage to choke out. Bella freezes at the end of the bed and looks over her shoulder at me.  Sweat is forming on my skin and I am struggling to breathe as my lungs continue to burn. Letting out a groan I try to continue. “Don’t…don’t get them…not… not yet…I,” She nods and leaves before I can finish.

I can feel the bile rising in my throat as I battle to stay conscious. Leaning over the side of the bed I empty the contents of my stomach. Laying back down the pain continues to rage inside of me and blackness is creeping around the corners of my vision. Feeling tired on top of everything I close my eyes.

 

**  
There is liquid in my mouth and I can’t breathe. I begin to choke on it as I try to spit it out. In the distance a voice says, “It’s okay. Swallow it and you’ll feel better.” The tone of the voice has a calming effect on me and I do as it says. There is a tingling in my limbs that is overriding the pain.

Opening my eyes I gaze into chocolate orbs. It takes me a moment to realize that I’m not staring into Bellatrix’s eyes, but Dromeda’s. My eyes dart around the room and land on Bellatrix who is standing in a far corner of the room with her arms crossed tightly in front of her chest. All of the friendliness that was there earlier has left her. Bella’s expression is unreadable. I try to send messages to her with my eyes but she is lost in her own world. One that nobody else can see. “What happened?” My throat is sore. Dromeda places a finger on my lips.

“Drink this first.” I gratefully take the glass of water and gulp it down. “Not so quickly dear.” I listen to Dromeda and find that the water is much more relieving when I don’t drink it so fast. I hand her back the glass, “Better?”

“Yeah.”

“You had me worried there for a second sweetie. You passed out; well you gave us both a scare.” Dromeda’s eyes wander to Bella and mine follow. She is still lost in thought. Dromeda sighs. I notice her glance on me but I am too focused on Bellatrix to care. “Bella?” She calls out to her sister softly.

Bellatrix lightly shakes her head and then looks up at us. I lock eyes with her. I want to take her in my arms and tell her everything will be alright. She seems so lost: so confused.

She crosses the room, crouches down next to the bed, and sends me a small smile. “Do you enjoy giving me heart attacks?”

“Of course I do. Why else would I put myself through the pain?” I slide my hand from beneath the blanket and rest it on hers. She intertwines our fingers. “What’s on your mind?”

She shakes her head. “You need to rest. You will have visitors later. I’m afraid that I might have worried the others when I rushed downstairs to find Dromeda.” I glace around the room for her younger sister and note that Dromeda has slipped out of the room and closed the door behind herself without us realizing it.

Bellatrix stands up and walks toward the door. “Bella?”

She stops with her hand on the door knob ad turns to me. “Yeah?”

“Will you stay with me?” I suddenly feel shy and exposed. She crawls up the bed, and I can’t help but glance down the front of her dress at smooth porcelain skin with darkness between two plentiful curves. I can see the top of her bra. I try to gain control of my breathing and as I shift my legs I can feel the rapidly growing wetness between them. I can’t take my eyes away from the sight. I want to run my fingers down her exposed neck and trace the contours of the fabric containing perfect breasts.

Bellatrix clears her throat self-consciously. I am dragged back into the present. Red has made its way on to Bellatrix’s cheeks and I know I’ve been caught staring. However she doesn’t say any more about what just happened. Instead she gets under the blankets and looks at me with uncertainty.

I slide closer to her and rest my head on her chest and place an arm over her stomach. Her arms snake around me blocking out the world around us. Closing my eyes I pondered what just happened between us and if it will ever be acknowledged. I can sense that the air has shifted: everything has changed again.

 

**  
“She’s upstairs,” I hear Dromeda say. “It is nice of you to stop by.”

I hear footsteps on the stairs and set my book down.  My body protests as I pull myself up to lean against the headboard. Briefly I wonder where Bellatrix is. I haven’t seen her all day.

There is a knock on the door, “Come in.” I smile as Professor McGonagall enters the room. She closes the door behind herself. “Hello Professor.”

“Hermione.” 

As she crosses the room I attempt to move over so she can sit on the edge of the bed. I can’t hide the grimace that passes over my face. I suppress a squeal as I find myself being lifted off the bed and moved by an invisible force.

My eyes lock with Professor McGonagall’s; she isn’t bothering to hide her amusement at my surprise.

“I could’ve moved myself.”

“Of course you could have dear.” She perches on the edge of the bed and watches me. “I came as soon as I heard.”

“Thank you, “ I smile at her. The affection in her eyes is overwhelming.

“What were you thinking?”

“Bellatrix…”

“Bellatrix can take care of herself.”

“She would have done the same thing for me.”

“I have no doubt she would have, but Bellatrix does not want you hurt on her behalf. Especially when it could have been prevented.” I nod.

She sighs and places her hand on my cheek. Her thumb  caresses the skin beneath it. I meet her eyes and place my hand over hers.  A small smile flutters onto my lips as my eyes close. Professor McGonagall’s touch is comforting and loving. I feel guilty for putting myself at risk.

“I don’t think Bellatrix would be able to live with herself if something happened to you because of her.” I open my eyes to look at Professor McGonagall and am shocked by what I see. There are unshed tears glistening in her eyes and her expression of fear and love is heartbreaking. I can hear her silent whisper, I don’t want to lose you.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I kiss the palm of her hand. “I promise.” She smiles at me before looking away. A faint blush covers her cheeks.

“Thank you.”

“For what?” She asks as she takes her hand back and discreetly wipes the tears from her eyes.

“Everything. You are an amazing friend, and I hope I can return the favor.”

“I don’t know what I would do if I lost you.”

“I do. You would go on like nothing has changed, because you are Minerva McGonagall, and you are a strong woman who does not let life hold you back.”

“It’s different.”

“How?”

“Let me run a few diagnostic tests on you.”

“Dromeda, already has. She is talking good care of me.”

“I have no doubt she is, but it can’t hurt to have a second opinion.” I roll my eyes at her.

“If it will make you feel better you can.” I watch her wave her wand. With each spell a different color smoke rises over my chest. “Well doctor, what is your verdict?”

“You need to rest. It’s going to be a slow healing process.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Three should have killed you, Hermione!”

“You were hit by four and you’re fine.”

“I was lucky.”

“I won’t ever forget that night.”

“I didn’t realize...”

“That I was on the astronomy tower taking my OWL? I spent the rest of the year worrying that you wouldn’t make it.”

“I’m sorry, Hermione”

“I would have rather seen it, Professor, than have heard about it.”

“Minerva, please call me Minerva. We’ve been through enough by now dear that you should feel comfortable addressing me by my name.”

“Okay.” I smile at her.

“I should go.” She kisses me on the forehead and stands.

I manage to grab her wrist, “Please stay, Minerva.”

“You need to…”

“I know, but I haven’t even had the chance to discuss Burgess’ latest article with you.”

She smiles at me and I grin back at her. “Well I suppose I could stay for a little while longer. It was such a preposterous article.”

 

**  
“Come back home, Hermione.” Ron is sitting on the edge of the bed while I am propped up against the headboard of the bed. I was hesitant to let him in by himself, but felt I owed it to him.

“That’s not a wise choice, and you know it.”

“I can try harder. I’ll be a better boyfriend. Give me a second chance, please.” His words are piercing my heart like a dagger. I want nothing more than to do as he asks, but I can’t.

“This isn’t about you, Ronald. It took me a while, but I’ve come to realize it’s always been about me.” He nods, but refuses to look at me.

“I miss you. You’re my best friend.”

“Please look at me,” He complies, “I miss you too, but this is for the best.”

“How can you say that? You left and now you are sharing a room with a deranged serial killer.”

“Please don’t go there.”

“No! I need to know what you see in her. I know she is why you left me. Don’t try to deny it.”

“It’s none of your business,” I say the anger is evident in my voice.  Harry was the first to come in and see me. I had to sit through his hour rant about how horrible Bellatrix is and how he refuses to believe I would protect her.

“I just don’t want to see you get into something you can’t get out of.” I can hear the concern in his voice. What he doesn’t know is that I am already in over my head. It all started back at the Malfoy’s and ever since I have been captured by the enigma known as Bellatrix Lestrange.

If I wanted out of our friendship I know Bellatrix would let me go without a protest. However, we are becoming closer and the more I learn about Bellatrix the more I information I crave. Parallel with this knowledge; my feelings for Bellatrix are continuing to grow and there is nothing I can do to stop them.  I wouldn’t want to.

“I don’t believe that. I think you want me back, and you are prepared to turn me against Bellatrix to do so.” I don’t believe a single word that is coming out of my mouth, but I want to fight. I have had it with not being able to make my own decisions. I am done being trapped inside the image of the girl I used to be. I know what I want and I know who I need. And Ron: he’s just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

“You know that’s not true. Hermione, I just…”

I sigh knowing that I shouldn’t have tried to pick a fight with him, “Care. Yeah I know. You know you really make it impossible for me to hate you.”

“Why would you want to?” He asks genuinely confused.

“It would make life easier. I know you don’t see it but Bellatrix has changed. All day all you guys have done is grill me about what I could possibly see in her. I can’t explain it. I’m just…”

“In love with her.” I am shocked.

“How did you know that?”

“You jumped in front of 3 stunning spells for her, and when you talk about Bellatrix I can see it in your eyes. It’s really not that hard to see ‘Mione. From what I’ve seen the only people that haven’t realized what is going on are Harry and Bellatrix.”

“It’s not that obvious.”

“The only thing more obvious than how you feel about Bellatrix is…”

When it is evident that he has decided not to finish his comment I ask, “What?”

“Nothing. I think I’ll leave you to figure it out for yourself.” He gets up and walks out of the room.

I call after him but he ignores me. Finally I call out, “Can you send Tonks up if she is home?”

“I will.” I roll my eyes in frustration. He can be such a git sometimes.

I hear footsteps approaching the door and push what Ron said out of my mind. I will have plenty of time to figure out what he was referring to later. I have a feeling I won’t be allowed to get out of bed for a very long time.

Tonks’ head appears around the doorframe. When she sees me she smiles. “Hey!”

“Hi,” I send her a small smile still slightly distracted. She enters the room and sits cross legged at the end of the bed.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better than before,” I reply.

“If it makes you feel better I was arguing with Bellatrix about when you could leave the room. I said tomorrow. She says that it’s way too soon that you just woke up today. I told her that you are old enough to make your own choices. My mom is pushing for the day after tomorrow so that you have time to rest. You’re lucky it’s not actually up to Bellatrix or you would be in here for the rest of your life.” I chuckle quietly.

“If it makes the decision any easier I would prefer today.”

“Which won’t happen.” I stick my tongue out at her. “I brought you something.” She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a book. I look down at it and smile. “I knew you wanted to read it so I stopped by a Muggle bookstore on the way home and picked it up.”

“Thanks.” I take it from her and set the book next to me. “So tell me what is going on in the outside world?”

“Not much. We are still pretty busy trying to round up the last of the Death Eaters…” She stops. I know her mind has wandered to the same place mine has.

“Tonks, what is going to happen to Bellatrix?”

“I don’t know, but don’t worry about it. That’s not your problem; it’s Bellatrix’s.”

“Does anybody know that she is here?”

“No, but I have a feeling we aren’t going to be able to keep it a secret much longer. Not with Harry knowing. Once the Ministry receives word that Bellatrix Lestrange is here they will have the place surrounded.”

“Is there somebody that can talk Harry out of turning her in?”

“I don’t know. All I know is that we will have a few days to figure things out, because Harry will want to kill her on his own. We both know that won’t happen. Bellatrix is too clever to let that happen.”

I nod. “Why are you helping her? I know you don’t like her.”

Tonks sighs, “She’s family Hermione, and despite the impression I give off, I don’t mind her.  Besides I know what it is like to lose the ones you love, and I don’t want that to happen to my mom, or to you.”

There is a knock on the door.  Bellatrix walks into the room. “Sorry, I just need to grab something.”

“It’s fine,” Tonks said. “I have to go feed Teddy.” Tonks places a kiss on my forehead and leaves.

I throw the covers off of myself. “What are you doing?” Bellatrix asks without looking at me. She is digging through a drawer with her back to me.

“Getting up.” She whips around.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.” I put my feet on the floor and stand. The room begins to spin.

Bellatrix rushes over to me and grabs my arm to steady me. “Careful.”

I look at her. She seems tired and upset. “Stay in here with me.” Her expression becomes unsure. “Please.” She nods and helps me back into bed. She crosses the room and closes the door before sitting next to me on the bed. I yank at the covers from beneath her and she gets under them. “Tonks said that the Ministry is looking for Death Eaters.”

“I know.”

“Harry will tell them where you are, Bella.”

“I know.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Leave.”

I was expecting this but it doesn’t make the truth any easier. “I…”

“I can’t put my family in danger, Hermione, so don’t try to talk me out of this.”

“I won’t. I want to go with you.”

“What?” Bellatrix says loudly.

“No, you’re staying here.”

“You can’t tell me what and what not to do, Bellatrix.”

 When her eyes return to me I am shocked to see tears within them.“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Bella you can talk to me.”

“Don’t do this.”

I rest my hand on her arm. “Don’t do what?”

“I…you…” She starts to shake her head as tears trickle down her cheeks. I try to pull her into me but she protests.

“Bella.” She begins to rack with sobs. I wrap an arm around her and she finally gives in allowing me to hold her in my arms. Her tears soak my shirt and she grasps on to me with desperation.

I whisper words of comfort without registering what I am saying. I’m scared. I have never seen Bellatrix cry. She has always been unbreakable, but now she is in my arms. I don’t know whether this is good or bad. She could be opening up to me or this could be the end. I know not to ask her what is wrong.

I alternate between running my fingers through her hair and rubbing her back. In the end I settle on taking her hand in mine.  I’ve never been good at comforting people, but I would never want Bellatrix to turn to anyone else.

She begins to calm down. Lifting her head she looks at me shyly and my heart melts. She opens her mouth to speak but doesn’t get the chance, because I have brought my lips to her’s, and she is kissing me back as we cling to each other with need. She tastes of tears and something uniquely Bellatrix.

She pulls away from me and I can sense her shut down. I lay there knowing there is nothing I can do.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Story:** When Everything Changed

 **Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

 **Rated:** M

 **Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.**

**A/N 3: Not the original. Revised and Reposted.**

 “[Without trust, words become the hollow sound of a wooden gong. With trust, words become life itself.](http://en.thinkexist.com/quotation/without_trust-words_become_the_hollow_sound_of_a/11231.html)”

“[It is impossible to go through life without trust: That is to be imprisoned in the worst cell of all, oneself.](http://www.quotationspage.com/quote/30969.html)” –Graham Greene

**  
_____________________________________________________________________________________**

**Bellatrix’s POV**

I shouldn’t have kissed Hermione; that I know, but I wanted it to the extent that I actually needed to kiss her. Now my feelings are out in the open for her to use at her own discretion, and whether that be against me I do not know. I wish I could trust Hermione the way that she seems to blindly trust me, and believe that she would never hurt me with what she now knows, but I can’t. I have followed people blindly too many times, I have cared unconditionally too many times, and it each time I was left crushed in the wake of their betrayal.

I have been putting off my departure to spend time with my family and Hermione, but now I know I must go. Nothing good can come from the events of the past few days especially the kiss.

Turning over my eyes wander the peaceful features of her face. Her lips are curled into a small smile and her creamy skin is being caressed by the afternoon light that filters through the window. I can still feel her lips against mine. I can still smell her intoxicating sent and I know that I always will. She is the one that I will never be able to forget.

In a matter of minutes I will destroy the fragile bond we have so carefully constructed between us. Because I know  she deserves someone who can trust in not only her, but in themselves. Someone who has the ability to love her and make her feel like she is on top of the world. Who lets her know how special she is, and that person is not me.

Cautiously I crawl out of bed. I quietly open the top drawer of the dresser and pull out the things I know I could never leave behind. Pausing I glance at her. I watch the rise and fall of the blanket caused by her gentle breathing.

There is a lump in my throat and for the first time I regret what I will be leaving behind. I refuse to let the tears fall. I’ve done enough crying to last me a lifetime, or maybe I have yet to catch up on the years where vulnerability wasn’t an option.

I grab my picture of Teddy. The nephew I will never get to see grow up and the picture of my family who I will yet again abandon in hope that it will make their lives easier. I make my way to the door and freeze. My attention is again pulled to the slumbering form on the bed. Digging my hand into the pocket of my robe I pull an item that I have kept it with me through everything, but now I believe that it is time to part with it.

Silently I cross the room. Hermione’s hand is resting by her head. I place my necklace in it: it has the Black family crest dangling from the silver chain. I fold Hermione’s fingers over the necklace and hope she will understand what I am trying to say one day.

In the process of giving Hermione my necklace I failed to notice that her eyes have flickered open. “What are you doing?” Her voice is thick with sleep.

“Leaving.” I reply and then turn around and exit the room. I hear her call after me and try to ignore it. When I am half way down the stairs I can hear her footsteps behind me. I have the compulsion to turn around and help her back into bed before I leave, but I know that will do no good.

“Bella.” I have reached the bottom of the stairs and even though my mind is screaming not to I turn around. Hermione is leaning heavily against the railing and gazing at me with hurt and confusion. “I thought I was going with you?”

I can’t bring myself to say anything. I all I can do is stand and stare at her wishing that I could go back to not caring, because this moment is breaking my heart. The heart I didn’t realize I had left. I shake my head no and try to convey my emotions to her through my eyes. “Please don’t do this again,” She whispers and I want to run up the stairs and take her in my arms promising that I won’t.

Slowly she comes down the stairs but I don’t give her a chance to reach me I spin around and make my way through the kitchen. I am about to open the front door when a voice sounds from behind me. “Bella, where are you going?” I gaze over my shoulder at Dromeda.

“I’m leaving.”

“Oh…” I can hear the hurt in her voice. “Where will you go?”

I shrug my shoulders and leave the house. I walk down the path and glance over my shoulder at the building I could finally call a home. Hermione is standing on the front steps. She is wearing a defeated expression and it is obvious that she is rapidly losing her energy. Dromeda is watching me out of the window. I send her a sad smile and then lock eyes with Hermione. I try to apologize but it goes unheard. Turning on the spot I wait for the familiar squeeze of apparating.

 

**  
Wandering aimlessly through the surrounding landscape I think about the look on Hermione’s face before everything around me disappeared. I could see in her expression that the weight of the world had just crashed back down on her. The guilt burns and scratches at every inch of my body. All I have ever done is hurt her.

I can hear laughing, carefree voices and I stop walking. I realize I am on the outskirts of Hogwarts. Without thinking I rush in the direction of the gate. It is not until my hand is wrapped around an iron bar and the flesh on the palm of my hand is burning do I remember who I am and how foolish I am being at the moment.

I quickly return to the safety of the trees, before glancing down at my hand. The skin is red and angry as blisters begin to form.

Taking out my wand I create a patronus and embed a message into it. I watch the figure soar through the sky. It is barely visible against the setting sun. I notice a student returning to the castle stop and watch the panther enter the Headmistress’ window.

After about ten minutes of waiting I notice a shimmering object making its way toward me. A familiar voice flows from it. “Make your way to the edge of Hogsmeade Bella, and I will come and get you as soon as I possibly can. I dear say you do choose odd times to appear.” I lightly chuckle and follow the instructions.

 

**  
“Bella?” I can see the outline of a figure.

“Over here.” There is a shuffling and then Professor McGonagall appears in front of me.

“Sorry it took me so long. I’ve been having issues with unruly students. I thought the Weasley twins were bad. Students try their hardest to leave the same kind of legacy that Fred and George did. We have to hurry; it will look suspicious if I am not at dinner. Rarely do I miss one.” She takes out her wand and taps me on the head with it. The familiar sensation of an egg being cracked over my head and trickling down my back overcomes me. When I glance down I am not surprised to find that I have completely disappeared.

I watch as Professor McGonagall effortlessly shifts the wards of Hogwarts. Her magic crackles around us and all I can imagine is the look on Hermione’s face if she could see this.  “One day soon I will have to remember to recast these so you can get in on your own,” she mumbles quietly. “Follow me.”

The castle doors open automatically as we approach. The dim light of the Entrance Hall lands on us. As Professor McGonagall’s features are highlight I notice that she appears tired and worn. The duties involved with being headmistress seem to be getting to her, but I have no doubt that she can handle them with expertise.

Filius Flitwick is crossing the room on his way to the Great Hall. “Filius,” McGonagall calls out. He turns his attention to her and crosses the room to meet us. His eyes flicker up to me before moving back to her and I would swear he knows I am here. “Start the dinner without me, will you? I will join the rest of the school shortly.”

“Of course, Minerva,” Flitwick glances in my direction one last time before turning and disappearing through a door that leads straight to the teacher’s table.

When I think I will collapse from the amount of stairs I have climbed in a jogging pace we stop in front of the stone gargoyle leading up to Professor McGonagall’s office. She gives the gargoyle the password and we step into the moving staircase.

“Does Flitwick know I’m alive?”

“Not to my knowledge. Why?”

“He kept glancing in my direction.”

“Filius probably sensed an unfamiliar magical presence.”

I follow Professor McGonagall into her office. The silence between us is comforting; when she speaks the sudden noise startles me. “Hermione wrote to me earlier saying that you had left Andromeda’s. She requested I send an owl if you chose to contact me. I think you should write to her while you wait for me.”

“Maybe,” I say quietly as the underlining sensation of guilt becomes stronger.

A set of eyes are piercing me and searching gently for answers. Lifting my head I lock eyes with Albus Dumbledore. Even though it is a picture, fear strikes me as I remember the raw power I have seen coming from the man on the wall. I know for sure that he can see me even with the spell cast that has been cast over me.

Professor McGonagall taps me with her wand and warmth spreads through my limbs. I return my eyes to Dumbledore. I nod at him, “Professor Dumbledore.”  Even though I do not respect him as much as Professor McGonagall know better than to address him without respect.

“Bellatrix,” he replies in his soft, caring tone. That alone surprises me. He has always surprised me so should I really be surprised that I was surprised? “I can see what you were talking about Minerva.” His gaze is making me self-conscious and nervous. I can feel a blush creeping onto my face. I find it odd that I have been blushing so often lately because I used to hold such an air of self-confidence. However, this is now, and with each passing day it is becoming harder to remember who I use to be.

“Albus leave Bella alone can’t you see she is embarrassed? Look at her she is bright read.” Her words do nothing to improve my state of extreme redness.

“Right, sorry Bellatrix.”

Professor McGonagall rests her hand on my lower back and leads me through a door in the back of the room. We enter her living quarters and I don’t bother pondering the fact I have never used this door to get here before. “Sit my dear. Sit.” She flicks her wand and the wood in the fire erupts into flames. “I’m afraid you will have to wait to talk to me for a little while longer.”

“That’s fine.” She nods.

“Kreacher.” There is a loud pop and the house elf is standing in front of the fire. He is looking much better than the last time I saw him. When his eyes land on me they go wide.

“Yes mistress?” He says his eyes never leaving me.

“Please arrange for an owl to be sent up here and have some food brought up to Bellatrix and anything else she may require.”

He bows to her and leaves the room. “Do you think he will say anything?” She shakes her head no.

“He is sworn to a vow of secrecy for whatever he may see or hear in my presence.”

“Wouldn’t matter if he did would it?” I lock eyes with her. “I’m sure soon enough the word will be spread that I am not dead.”

“Would you expect any less of Harry?” She glances at her watch. “I really must go.” I nod. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” I nod again and she exits the room in a hurry.

Kreacher reappears with an owl, quill, and parchment. “Madame Lestrange.”

“Thank you, Kreacher,” I take the objects from him. He looks at me with disbelief. I send him a small smile. “Do you enjoy working at Hogwarts?”

“Somewhat,” he appears to still be in shock.

“That’s good.”

“What would you like to eat Madame?”

“Nothing at the moment. You wouldn’t be able to get some fire whiskey up here would you?”

“Of course.” He disapparates. I look down at the parchment and sigh. Dipping the quill in ink I begin to write.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

I wince at the noise made by my arrival. The sound of apparition can be unhelpful for those trying to remain hidden. It has been two weeks since I left Dromeda’s. I received a heart breaking letter from Hermione in reply to the short one I sent her from Hogwarts. I can tell she is mad and confused.

Quietly walking in the shadows my sister’s house comes into view. I stop and stare at it. I long to go up to the door, but I can’t. I can’t burden her with my presence again. Who knows how much trouble she is already in? Last week the headlining article of the Daily Profit was **_Bellatrix Lestrange Back From the Dead?_** by Rita Skeeter. That bitch always had a certain style of writing that never put anyone in a good light. I didn’t bother to read the article. I had grabbed the newspaper out of the trash and that’s exactly where I put it when I was done.

I realize I have been wandering out of the shadows as I think. Suddenly ten aurors have appeared from nowhere. I recognize a few. I turn around but they have enclosed me. My hand automatically goes to my pocket and wraps around my wand, but I know it is no use resisting.

The sound of all of the apparating has brought Dromeda, Hermione, and Tonks out of the house. Tonks’ expression is unreadable, Dromeda’s is worried, and Hermione’s is horrified. “Bella!” She calls out to me. Dromeda wraps her arms around Hermione. I send them a small smile, and take out my wand. The aurors that are closing in on me abruptly stop. Glancing around I notice that Shacklebolt has come out for the occasion of capturing me even though he is now Minister of Magic. I turn my wand around and hold it out to him.

He looks puzzled but immediately takes it. I feel rope snake around my wrists. There will be no trial. I will go straight to Azkaban. There is no question as to what I have done. Hands are on my wrists pushing me forward. I wince as I am roughly grabbed and pulled into side long apparition.

At least I will be going to where I belong.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Story:** When Everything Changed

 **Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

 **Rated:** M

 **Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.**

**A/N 3: Not the original. Revised and Reposted.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________**

**Hermione’s POV**

Even though she is not here I can sense her eyes on me. I can picture her guilty expression and the pleading look in her dark brown pools before Bellatrix surrendered and was dragged off to Azkaban. Those eyes haunt me without remorse.

 Her presence will not leave me alone. No matter what I do she is here; a weight on my shoulders. When I attempt to rid myself of her, Bellatrix’s essence closes further in on me. Causing my surroundings to turn black and white and leaving me suspended in a cold and lonely world.

How can I long for something so torturous?  I ask myself this with the answer already resting silently on my lips. I have seen the other side of Bellatrix. The side that is so beautiful and full of life that it is impossible to imagine that the same person could ever be so ruthless. I felt something when our lips touched an intense and unidentifiable emotion. Whatever it was it left me desiring more. Not only do I want Bellatrix: I need her.

Fear is constantly gnawing at me. It has been a week since the scene on the front lawn. I have no clue how Bellatrix is fairing in Azkaban. She is strong. Stronger than almost anyone I’ve ever known, but the sight of her tears linger in my memory and I can still feel the weight of her, vulnerable and needy, resting delicately in my arms.

I understand why Harry turned Bellatrix in, and I get that he is angry, but I wish he would have calmed down enough to see how his actions would affect everyone else. He has always been a hot head, and now Andromeda, Tonks, and I are being investigated for hosting a serial killer.  Now Tonks is suspended until further notice and we are under constant surveillance every time we step outside.  Everyone is on edge

The worst part is after all that has happened I cannot bring myself to come close to hating Bellatrix for all the trouble she has caused. If anything I want to find a way to help her. However I have to wait for the investigation to be over. If they discover anything that indicates I had any contact with Bellatrix I will be lucky if I am not locked up in Azkaban with her.

Besides I could risk a job at the Ministry, assuming that we are cleared, and that could open a lot of doors for me. I want to work in the auror department for a few years to continue to hone my skills, and possibly take the N.E.W.T.S. before I decide to switch departments to something better suited to my interests. As well as all information on Azkaban I will have access to.

I wish I knew what Bellatrix was thinking when she turned herself in. She couldn’t honestly have believed that anything other than Azkaban or death would result from that. It is a miracle that they haven’t left her to a dementor, or executed her by now. There are plenty of people that would love to see that happen.

The only way that Bellatrix could truly be free to live is in the Muggle world, but I know that she could never sever her ties with the wizarding world.

There is a knock on the door. “Come in.” Tonks’ nervous face appears in the space provided by her opening the door partially.

“The letter from the Ministry’s here.” She disappears before I can reply.

Standing on unsteady legs I run my eyes across the details of the room. Bella’s room. I still find myself hoping that Bellatrix will somehow reappear and everything will have gone back to normal. I keep that hope hidden where the darkness cannot lay a deadly finger on it. Maybe one day I will wake up and this will all only have been a bad dream.

I look back once more before I leave the room: Bellatrix’s sent lingers in every fiber and floats in every inch of that room. It as if she hovers just above me, but moves out of my reach whenever I try to touch her.

When I reach the kitchen Tonks and Dromeda are waiting for me. Tonks is pale and pacing, while Dromeda’s eyes are distant. I clear my throat to announce my entrance. Dromeda snaps out of her trance. Traces of tears remain in her eyes and I have the suspicion her mind is on the same place mine is: Bellatrix. Her warm eyes wander to the counter where the official letter is sitting. Shortly after Tonks eyes gravitate to the same spot.

Dromeda reaches outs and takes the letter with a shaky hand. This is it. This letter could make us outcasts in the wizarding world or keep us safely within its boundaries. Personally I don’t believe that Shacklebolt would ever allow anything as horrible as outright rejection from this world. He is too kind for that. Yet you never know.

Dromeda breaks the seal which has a distinct sound. One that will remain imprinted in my mind for eternity.

Her eyes scan the parchment. When she looks up our eyes lock and in barely more than a whisper she says, “We’re clear.” A relieved smile makes its way onto my face. The color begins to seep back into Dromeda’s features. Tonks stops pacing and sinks into a chair at the kitchen table. I focus on her; her eyes are changing colors rapidly before stopping on electric blue.

“We’re clear,” she repeats as if saying to again will make the decision final. “We’re clear…”

“Hermione dear, there’s a separate letter for, and one for you too Tonks.” I take the parchment from Dromeda and skim it. I can sense their eyes on me.

I glance up at them and say, “They want me to go in and test for the auror position.”

“That’s wonderful,” Dromeda informs me.

“Yeah,” I mumble as I retreat back upstairs. I can hear their low voices behind me. Their words are filled with concern. They are words that cannot faze me or even touch me.

The Ministry has resources for the basis of my research, but I cannot wait an extra week plus however long it will take for them to decide if they want to hire me. I can’t leave Bellatrix rotting in Azkaban. Who knows what will happen in that time. I might be too late. I have to start planning now.

Rushing around Bellatrix’s room I search for parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink. Quickly I scrawl, _I need to talk to you soon_- _Hermione_ , and fold the paper. Running out of the room I yell, “Tonks, do you know where Merlin is?” Merlin is the owl I recently purchased for the house.

“He’s out delivering a letter why?”

“Shit,” I hiss. “Never mind.” I go back into Bella’s room and grab my wand and jacket before going downstairs. “I’m going out,” I announce.

“Okay, where are you goi…” I shut the front door drowning out Tonks’ voice. Speed walking down the road for a few minutes I finally reach the point where it is okay for me to apparate.  Turning on the spot I feel the familiar squeeze of the darkness as it engulfs me.

 

**  
The world around me reappears providing relief from the pressing darkness. I find myself on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. The sun is shining brightly in the sky and Hogwarts is clearly visible in the distance.

I walk briskly to the Post Office and select the owl I want. I have always found it clever how the owls are color coded by speed. This is especially helpful today when my mind is reeling with thoughts.  Attaching the letter to the owl’s leg I tell it, “Take this to Minerva McGonagall. It’s important. I don’t care if she is in the middle of class or whatever else she could be doing make sure she opens it immediately. Don’t leave without a reply.” The owl hoots in understanding and then abandons its perch. I pay and then leave the building.

Now that my task is done I begin to fidget. Familiar nerves start to work in my stomach. I need a distraction. Everything has become too much for me, Bellatrix, life, emotions, Bellatrix… Why couldn’t things be easier? The problem is I would never give up what has happened between Bella and I, no matter how much more calm my life would become. She is complicated yes, and being around her has made my life more complicated, true, but I can’t shake the feeling that it will all be worth it in the end.

 Walking along the streets of Hogsmeade I glance at shop windows. None particularly catch my eye. I decide that doing the necessary shopping will be a nice distraction while I wait impatiently for a reply.

I load up on parchment, quills, and ink. Along with various things that are needed around the house. I buy a few treats for Merlin in _Animal Needs_. As I reach the edge of town my eyes wander to a small bookstore that I have been in once before.

As I open the door a bell tinkles announcing my arrival. The shop is dimly lit is smells like a mixture of new and old books along with a hint of vanilla. Closing my eyes briefly, I savor the unique scent and store it in my memory.  A kind looking witch appears from behind a purple, velvet curtain in the back of the store. “Can I help you m’ dear.”

“No thanks, I’m just browsing.” I smile at her.

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything. I’m Karen.”

I nod, “Hermione.”

I wait until she has disappeared behind the curtain before starting to skim the shelves. Various volumes jump out at me, but nothing that I am specifically looking for;  books about Azkaban.

Finally I find something that sounds like exactly what I was looking for. Freed from Azkaban: _Famous Cases and Reasons for the Occupants’ Emancipations_. It is thinner than I would have wished for. This lowers my spirits, but I proceed to the counter with the book with a small amount of hope. I clear my throat, “Karen?”

“Yes?” She responds in a sing-song voice.

“I think I’m ready to pay.” She appears almost instantly.

Taking the book she glances at the title and then jots something down on a piece of parchment. “Fascinating read if I do say so myself. If you are interested in Azkaban, my dear, there is a great piece of literature on the history of Azkaban.  Published last year so it is up to date. Defiantly worth reading.”

I contemplate her offer for a moment. “Sure why not.”

“I’ll grab that for you, Hermione.” She glides over to a nearby shelf and runs a finger over the book bindings. Karen lets out a quiet “ah-ha,” and pulls a large volume off the shelf. She walks back around the counter and again jots something down on the parchment at her side. “Hermione, that’s an uncommon name.”

“Yeah I guess so.” Her eyes haven’t left me since she came around the counter.

“You know when you walked in I thought you looked familiar.”

“Um, you did?” She is making me uncomfortable.

“You wouldn’t happen to be Hermione Granger would you? The young woman who helped Harry Potter defeat You-Know-Who?”

“Yeah I am,” I am shocked that anyone would know my name. “If you don’t mind me asking, how did you know that?”

“ _The Daily Prophet,_ and of course there’s already a book out on The Trio, Defeaters of the Dark Lord. Authors were rushing to be the first ones to publish the story. I have it in the back if you want to take a look at it.”

“Oh. No thank you. Maybe next time,” Where have I been and why didn’t I know this? I hand her the proper number of coins and leave the shop in a hurry.

When the fresh air hits my face I am overcome by an overwhelming sense of relief. I’ve always hated being in the spotlight and being friends with  someone famous, thankfully, deflected most of the attention I might have received.

A soft hoot sounds behind me. Turning I find the owl I sent to Minerva. Quickly I untie the response and open the fresh bag of owl treats I bought, giving one to the owl in front of me. Taking the treat the owl hoots gratefully and flies away.

Unfolding the scrap of paper, I see neatly written under my initial message, _The_ _Three Broomsticks. 10 o’clock tonight._ I find the weight pressing on my chest slightly deteriorating as I re-read the note. Now all I have to do is find something to preoccupy my thoughts until ten tonight. Something that isn’t Bellatrix.

 

xx  
The Three Broomsticks looks different at night. It is packed with a variety of people. Defiantly a change from the student crowded pub I am used to. The circumstances are different I suppose. I am legally considered and adult therefore I am allowed privileges I have yet to become accustom to.

“Can I get you somethin’ love?” The cheery bartender Rosmerta asks.

“Fire whiskey please.” I smile shyly at her. Recently I have become aware of all the women around me. I still will only ever want to be with Bellatrix, but that doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate the female form now that I am beginning to come to terms with myself. My biggest fear is that I will turn into Ron around women: a blabbering idiot.

“Be right back with that deary.” She winks at me and I am grateful that she has turned around because I can feel my whole body flush with heat. Shaking my head I attempt to rid myself of the sensation. It has been a while since I have felt like this, and ever since Bellatrix ignited something within me with that kiss I have had the sporadic need for human contact.

Madam Rosmerta returns with my drink. “Thanks,” I mumble.

“No problem just flag me down if you need more hun.” She sends me a knowing smile and then briefly rests her hand on my shoulder. With the simple contact it as if my skin has burst into flames. When she leaves I pray to God she didn’t notice anything. Images of Bellatrix swim lazily through my mind and become more persistent with each sip of my drink. Soon the images are accompanied by a dull throb between my legs. I groan; could this have happened at any more of an inconvenient time?

After a few minutes the chair beside me scrapes back on the wooden floor and Professor McGonagall takes a seat next to me. “Hello Hermione.”

“Minerva,” I nod respectfully at her and then scan the room; effectively catching Rosmerta’s eye. She smiles signaling her understanding and holds up an index finger.

I turn my attention back to Minerva. I don’t even have to glance at her to sense the  worry radiating from her. “How have you been?” I ask.

“Busy. I was getting some well needed rest during my break today when an owl flew through the window and proceeded to hoot and peck at me until I gave it attention. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you?” There is a small smirk playing on her lips.

I smile guiltily, “Sorry.” I note that her right hand is covered in beak marks. “I…”

She holds up a hand to silence me, “It’s quite all right, Hermione. I assumed that it was something urgent or you would not have sent such a persistent owl.”

“I really am sorry, Minerva. Let me heal it.”

“That’s not necessary.” Ignoring her response I take her hand a pull out my wand. Silently I cast the appropriate spells over her hand.

She smiles at me and squeezes my hand. When she tries to pull away I tighten my grip. When our eyes lock I attempt to express my apology once more.

“You have already been forgiven dear.”

“Minerva, how nice to see you!” Rosmerta has reappeared at our table and I quickly let go of Minerva’s hand. She has moved her eyes to the attractive blonde.

“As it is to see you, Rosmerta.”

“How’s business at Hogwarts?”

“Everything is running smoothly, well as smoothly as it can with a castle full of children plus a poltergeist. I can see business is going fairly well for you as usual.” Her eyes flicker around the room with her previous statement.

“I’m defiantly not complaining. What can I get you love?”

“Single malt scotch on the rocks.”

“And you dear?” I glance down at my mug and am surprised to find it empty.

“It’s Hermione.” Her smile starts to awaken the hormones I just barely managed to suppress.

“As if I wouldn’t know that,” Rosemerta scoffs light heartedly, “You’re Hermione Granger.” Again I find myself at a loss as to why people know who I am. “I brag to anyone that will listen about how I knew the Golden Trio before they were famous.”

“I’m not famous.” I notice Minerva smirk at my comment. “I’ll have what Minerva’s having.” Out of the corner of my eye I catch the surprised look and raised eyebrow thrown my way.  

I shrug at Minerva and look down at the table. “I’ll be right back with those,” Rosmerta informs us.

“How are you holding up?” Minerva rests a slender hand on my arm.

“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?” I attempt to smile at her and fail miserably. She is wearing an expression that clearly states, ‘don’t play games with me I know you’re not fine.’ “I’m worried about her.  I don’t think she is as strong as she pretends to be.”

“She has always been that way. I’m not sure why exactly she feels she must be so strong,” Minerva glances around before lowering her voice, “but it will be Bella’s downfall, as we can already see, unless she chooses to let someone in.”

“She let you in.”

“Years ago.” A thick silence descends upon us as our individual thoughts battle for our attention. Rosmerta returns and sets our drinks in front of us.

I take a sip of the bitter liquid and decide to get straight to the point. “I was hoping I could use Hogwarts’ library.”

Minerva sets her drink down and studies me. “Of course. What for?”

“I need somewhere where I will be undisturbed as I do research.”

“On what?”

“Azkaban.” She looks at me knowingly.

“Do you have a plan?”

“Not yet.”

“Nothing illegal will be taking place I hope.”

“Of course not.”

“In that case use my private living area. You will have all of the resources Hogwarts can provide. That’s including Albus.” For the first time it feels as if freeing Bellatrix from Azkaban might be possible.

“Have you heard about the auror position yet?” I look up at Minerva and smile: she always knows how to pull me out of the darkness. I inform her that I haven’t before slipping off my cloak and readying myself for a nice conversation with a friend.

 

xx

“Come back to Hogwarts with me, Hermione.”

I shake my head no and the world spins nauseatingly fast around me. “I’m fine.” The words are thick as they move over my tired tongue. “I’ll see you later.” I turn to apparate and a hand stops me. I look at Minerva and I’m not sure which of her to focus on.

“It is not safe to apparate while you are intoxicated dear. Let’s not ruin a nice night out, because we’ve had a little too much to drink. Walk me back to Hogwarts, and if you are sober by then you can go.”

I nod at her and link my arm around hers. Step by step we make out way closer to Hogwarts. The ground has a slight tilt and I stubble as I try to follow it.

We reach the gates and I glance over at Minerva, “Can I go now?”

“I don’t think so.” I nod knowing that it’s not a good idea to argue with her. I follow her into Hogwarts and she catches me every time I trip up the stairs. As we reach the gargoyle I am giggling hysterically at the adventure to her office.

I turn toward Minerva and find her smiling at me. I try to smile back, but my muscles are refusing to cooperate with me.

“I love you, Minerva.” I notice a shift in her expression but her head is swimming around in my vision so I can’t tell what’s different.

“I love you too, Hermione,” She responds quietly. “Now let’s get you into my quarters.”

With my arm draped over Minerva’s shoulders we enter her living room. We move over to the couch and I sit pulling her down with me.

As the silence descends upon us I can feel them coming: the water is building in my eyes, and it hurts to swallow around the lump in my throat. When the tears beg for release I let them fall. I let them shake my whole body. I can feel Minerva’s arms wrap around me and pull me closer. I bury my face in her shoulder as I curl into her.

As Minerva whispers, “It will be okay my dear,” I realize I would be lost without her.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Story:** When Everything Changed

 **Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

 **Rated:** M

 **Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.**

**A/N 3: Not the original. Revised and Reposted.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________**

**Bellatrix’s POV**

_“Crucio,” The word is whispered in a venomous tone. Inexplicable pain raced through my body; wiping out my senses, and leaving me with only the hate filled words being repeated in my mind. “Let’s see exactly how loyal you are.”  Red and white pierced through my closed eyelids causing a single thought to run through my mind: death would be a relief._

_Suddenly everything stopped. A high pitched ringing filled my ears as my chest erratically heaved up and down as I attempted to breathe through the flames licking the inside of my throat and lungs. Cold sweet covered my body in a slick blanket; drenching my cloak and hair._

_Opening my eyes my vision slowly returned and I found myself staring into the eyes of the Dark Lord. Rodulphus was standing behind him with a smug smirk on his face. My eyes narrowed at the sight of my husband. Not a single protest left his lips, laughter yes, but not a single objection to my treatment. This reminded me once more that he was only my husband due to inconvenient circumstances._

_“Have you had enough?” He was egging me on. The Dark Lord wanted me to speak; wanted me to prove that I can be unfaithful when faced with pain. I was loyal, and I would not speak. For the past five years I had devoted myself to doing everything in my power to serve the Dark Lord. It had gotten me, and my God forsaken husband, into the inner ring of Death Eaters. I needed to remind Rodulphus that without me he would still be invisible in Lord Voldemort’s eyes._

_I was the one who had endured the majority of the suffering, but I would not have it any other way. The Dark Lord kept his word; those who show unwavering loyalty shall be rewarded. I was the only woman to stand by his side. I was the only woman in his rank of Death Eaters._

_I gazed up at my master with my jaw firmly locked and eyes emotionless. I received a sneer before I heard the fateful word uttered again, “Crucio.” I could hear the men’s laughter, their enjoyment at my treatment before agony engulfed me and removed me from the physical world._

 

**  
Bolting up, I glance around the room. An unearthly cold has permanently settled in the cell.  The sounds of the sea violently bashing against the walls of the prison cause uneasiness to settle within me. Thunder crashes above reminding me of the guards of Azkaban. Standing, the stone is cold against the soles of my feet. I make my way to the barred window and peer out into the darkness.

Memories that I have locked away, never expecting to face again, have begun to plague me. My past is more threatening to me than the looming promise of the Dementor’s Kiss.

Lightning flashes and I sink down the wall as my mind takes hold of me once more.

 

_**  
Rushing up the stairs I was dying to see Cissy and Dromeda. I had just gotten home for Christmas break from Hogwarts. I couldn’t wait to tell them what had happened so far. Opening the door to Andromeda’s bedroom I stopped; paralyzed by the sight before me. _

_Dromeda was lying on her bed and my father was sitting beside her: rubbing her arm. At first glance it seemed innocent, but the atmosphere was heavy with uncertainty, fear, and lust. Dromeda’s dark eyes flickered to me with a pleading expression. My father did not turn to see who had entered the room._

_His hand moved from her arm to her thigh. I watched in horror as his fingers begin to move up her leg. My precious sister was too young and too naive for this. I had hoped when I left for Hogwarts he would stop, but obviously he hadn’t. He had only changed his target._

_I could have turned around and left. I could have pretended I didn’t know what was happening, but then I would have been my mother and I refused to become her. She had the power to stop my father, but she chose to remain ignorant to what was occurring in her home._

_Briskly I walked across the room and put my arms around my father’s shoulders. I pressed my chest into his back knowing the effect it would have on him. “I’m home,” I whispered in his ear removing the disgust from my voice,_

_“Bellatrix,” He said. “My little girl.” His voice was rough and unwelcoming. His hands immediately left Andromeda._

_I mouthed to her ‘my room,’ and she darted out of the bedroom. Before she shut the door behind her I caught a glimpse of my mom’s silhouette at the end of the hall._

_I sat on the bed and allowed my father to tuck my hair behind my ears. His hand grazed down my arm, over the small swell of my breast, to my thigh. Impatiently he ran his hand up my leg. He applied pressure with his fingers between my legs and I groaned in pain. He misinterpreted this for pleasure, and repeated his actions causing the rough fabric of my trousers to scrape against the sensitive skin between my legs._

_I suppressed a hiss of pain. He took my hand and rested it between his legs. I knew what he wanted. I could feel him harden beneath my fingers. So far, I had been lucky, and this was as far as he would venture to go. Closing my eyes I began to rub him. I could feel the bile churning in my stomach, and I could hear his breathing becoming heavier. I tried to block out the noises. I attempted to remove my mind from the room and what was happening, but all I could feel was my father against me, and his hand furiously working between my own legs.  His hot breath tickled my lips before he forcefully kissed me. All I could think about is the soreness I would feel in the morning, and the humiliation and the disgust that would tear me apart once again. The sensation of being trapped and violated would make itself present after I had tried so hard to forget._

_His groans became louder and I knew what was happening. He suddenly was silent and I could feel the warm fluid underneath my hand through the fabric of his clothes. Quickly I removed my hand and pulled away. Getting under the covers of Cissy’s bed I pulled my legs to my chest and kept my eyes squeezed shut._

_My father briefly rubbed my back before leaving the room. I could feel the tears building, but I refused to let them fall. I would never allow them to fall again._

 

**  
Turning my head to the side the bile burns my throat as it comes back up. Coughing, I lean my head back against the hard stone and stare up at the ceiling while I try to catch my breath.

The feeling of helplessness still lingers in my veins. It fills the silence and is occasionally accompanied by fits of madness released by the other prisoners.

The swishing of a dementor’s cloak can be heard directly outside of my cell. An involuntary shiver runs down my spine. This place is more haunting than I remember.

 

_**  
Blasting the door open with my wand I felt a sense of thrill that was rapidly diminished by the searing anger inside of me. I was focused solely on my task. I was attempting to remove what was left of my pain by causing it in others. I wanted to see the look of horror on their faces. I wanted to smell their fear._

_Rodulphus and Crouch entered the house behind me. Silence rang through the rooms. We knew they were there, but they were unaware of our presence._

_The sound of panicking people informed me that they had noticed our arrival._

_The shrill cry of a baby fell over the house followed by my hollow laughter. A flash of green light shot out of the room on my left. I dodged it and sent the Cruciatus Curse in the same direction. My companions followed suit._

_I found myself standing over a woman, looking down into her kind face as Alice Longbottom contorted in pain. I observed as she silently screamed. Anger flared within me. I wanted to hear her pain. I wanted her to beg for mercy until I gave it to her by ending her life._

_A cautious hand rested on my elbow and I whipped around. “Let’s go,” Rodulphus says._

_“The boy.”_

_“The Order has been alerted.”_

_“Let’s stay and fight!”_

_“That’s unwise.”_

_I chuckled. “Typical Rodulphus. Can’t see past your own needs. Never willing to risk your life for the Dark Lord when it is not necessary.”_

_“Let’s go now.” I turned and looked down upon my pray. She had lost consciousness long ago. I am unsurprised to find myself shaking with unused anger._

_“Fine. She’s lost her fun anyway.” I raised my wand; the spell caused the Dark Mark to linger grimly over the Longbottom residence._

 

**  
A small proportion of food is slid through the latch on the door. Glancing at it I decide not to bother.

I want to think of something pleasant; something that will pull me away from the insanity that I can feel tugging at the edges of my mind.

Anything I think of I know will be stolen from me by the creatures that guard this building. I want to think of Dromeda, Teddy, Tonks, and Hermione. When I dare to think of Hermione all I see is the anger that consumed her when I left, and the uncertainty she tries to hide when she is around me, but the most prominent memory is the tears that she has shed for me.

This has caused me to realize I don’t want to think of Hermione.

 

 _**  
_ The days go by, blending together in a whirlwind of time. Never having a sense of being, because you never have a sense of time. That alone could drive a person in Azkaban mad after a while.

There is no word from the outside world. The only human presence that occurs is from the prisoners around me along with the occasional Ministry member.

I long to know how my family is doing, but know it is better if I don’t possess that knowledge.

It’s better if I am no longer a part of their lives.

  
  
**  
 _The room was blurred by alcohol. The people around me were enjoying the celebration that followed the victory of Slytherin winning the House Cup. Stumbling a hand grabbed me steadying my balance._

_Turing around I could make out dark, hollow eyes. Rodulphus._

_He guided me away from the party. Through a portrait into the boys dormitory. I heard a faint whisper, but could not make out what he said. He laid me down on the bed. I watched in horror as he places himself on top of me pinning me beneath him._

_“What are you…?” His lips crashed against mine. Stubble scrapped my skin. His teeth bit into sensitive flesh as he frantically made his way down my neck._

_“Stop.” My protested caused him to laugh._

_I struggled against him and his grip tightened on me. I wanted to get out of there. I couldn’t stand his strong scent, or rough hands. I couldn’t breathe with his body pressing down on me._

_“Get off of me.”_

_“Shut up,” He growled. By this point I was completely sober. I continued to struggle, but it only aroused him more._

_I screamed, but my efforts were in vain, because nobody that cared could hear me. It was better that way, because my weakness would remain hidden from the world._

_I gasped in pain as Rodulphus pushed inside of me. I could feel myself tear, and warm blood trickled down my leg. Unskillfully he thrusted inside of me. I shut my eyes wanting to disappear. Flashes of my father crossed in front of my closed eyelids. I told myself then no more tears, and there would be no tears shed now._

_He climaxed and his warm, sticky fluids were dripping out from inside of me down my legs and on to stained sheets._

_Getting off of me I watched he pulled his pants back up. Glancing my way he laughed hollowly and then unsealed the entrance leaving me alone._

_Starring up at the canvas I wondered why I let them do this to me. Why did I allow myself to be so weak and helpless?_

_Rolling off the bed I exited the room. I held my head high even though Rodulphus’ scent was still invading my senses and staining my skin._

_  
**_

_“I’m pregnant,” I watched as Rodulphus’ face dropped. I prepared for him to strike me as his hand twitched._

_“You’re lying.” His words flipped a switch in my brain._

_“Lying? You think I want this? I didn’t even want…”_

_“Don’t you dare say you didn’t want to have sex with me. You liked it!”_

_“Liked it! You forced yourself on me. Do you really think I would want to be with you?” I glare at Rodulphus and he backs away from me._

_“What do you want me to do?”_

_“What do you think?” I watched as the possibilities rush through his mind before one stuck and an expression of sheer disgust settled on his face._

_“I’m not marrying you, Black.”_

_“Do you think we have an option? Trust me if we did I wouldn’t have bothered telling you. It’s not like marrying you appeals to me either. But what do you think will happen when the Dark Lord…”_

_“If the Dark Lord.” He corrected._

_“Oh no, Rodulphus. When the Dark Lord learns that his only female Death Eater is pregnant with your child and you haven’t bothered to take any responsibility. How do you think you’ll look then?”_

_He clenched his jaw and his fist flew at my face. I didn’t bother moving. In fact, I enjoyed the throbbing that appeared when his hand collided with my temple. A bone chilling, empty laugh escaped me. The sound was new and delightful to my ears._

_“What’s your decision?” I asked in a menacing tone._

_“I’ll marry you; under one condition.”_

_I raised a disbelieving eyebrow at him: he wasn’t in the position to bargain. “What?”_

_“No one finds out about the kid, and when it’s born we figure out how to get rid of it.”_

_My jaw tightened, “Deal.”_

 

** _  
“Do you miss him?”_ Her question rings in my head.

_“Who?”_

_“Rodulphus.”_

I wish I could answer her question, because I know what I would say. I would tell her ‘No, I definitely don’t miss Rodulphus, but I do miss you Hermione.’


	12. Chapter 12

**Story:** When Everything Changed

 **Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

 **Rated:** M

 **Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.**

**A/N 3: Not the original. Revised and Reposted.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________**

**Hermione’s POV**

Entering the kitchen I send a small smile in Tonks’ direction. “Morning,” I whisper. She smiles sleepily in return and motions toward the fresh batch of coffee on the counter. Quietly I make my way across the room not wanting to wake anybody. As I pour the coffee I gaze into the darkness outside. Nothing is visible, nothing is clear; yet, all it takes is a light to chase away the darkness and everything seems less frightening. Everything seems simpler during the day, because in the light you can see what it is you need, and you want.

Joining Tonks at the table I grab the Daily Prophet from next to her. Opening it up I turn to the Classifieds section. “I’m thinking about getting my own place,” I inform her quietly.

“You don’t have to. You’re welcome here as long as you want.”

“I know, but I should have my own place. It’s not that I’m not grateful for everything, but I have a steady income now, and I think it would be good for me to have a place of my own.” I glance over the newspaper at her. She appears to be thinking. When Tonks finally notices my gaze she sends me a small smile.

“Yeah it would be. You’re welcome here whenever.”

“I know.”

“We should probably go.” I glance at the clock on the wall, and nod in agreement.

We leave the house without much noise and walk until the spells preventing us from apparating are no longer in effect. At the same time we turn on the spot and the world around us disappears.

Opening my eyes I am standing in the lobby at the Ministry of Magic. I turn to Tonks who is still at my side. “Oh. Don’t wait for me tonight I’ll be home late.”

Tonks focuses her attention on me. “All right. Big case?”

“Yeah, something like that.” She shrugs and calls out to Shacklebolt, before disappearing into the crowd after him.

 

xx  
Sighing, I glance across the room once more at Harry and Ron. They are laughing about something one of them has said as they pass a miniature quaffle back and forth. It has been two weeks since I started working at the Auror Department and we have not said a word to each other. Every once in a while I do, however, catch Ron looking my way.

As I take a deep breath I stand up. The walk toward the two is in slow motion. I can feel my legs quivering beneath me threatening to collapse.

I stop in front of the two and clear my throat. Ron immediately gives me his attention, but it takes Harry a few seconds longer. “Hey guys, I was wondering if you wanted to get lunch at the Leaky Cauldron.”

“Sure,” Ron says with a shrug. He smiles goofily at me and the weight on my chest easies slightly.

 One glance at Harry makes it increase again. “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Oh, okay,” I say trying to keep my voice level. I don’t want Harry to know how much his answer has affected me.  “Maybe next time.”

“Yeah, maybe,” He says: he refuses to look at me.

“Let’s go,” Ron suddenly states. The expression on his face lets me know he understands how I am feeling. He links my arm with his and leads me out of the office.

  
xx  
Ron and I dodge inside the Leaky Cauldron in a fit of laughter. We just ran down the street, knocking people aside, to avoid the _Daily Prophet_ reporter and photographer who were chasing us down the sidewalk with questions on our rumored relationship.

We take a seat at a table and shout out drink requests to Tom. Once our drinks are in our possession I glance up at Ron. “How have you been, Ron?”

“Okay. How ‘bout you?”

“I’m good. Life’s been a little hectic, you know?”

“Yeah I do.”

Silence falls over us. I stare at my glass until I finally work up the courage to say what I have to say. “I’m sorry, Ron.”

He looks up at me and smiles shyly, “I am too, ‘Mione.”

I frown, “Why are you sorry? I was horrible to you. You should hate me.”

“I should have stood up for you after you had been stunned. I heard everything Harry said to you, because I was standing outside the door, and I didn’t once call him out on it.”

I sigh and grab his hand, “Why do you make everything seem so easy? You forgiving me shouldn’t be this simple. We should be yelling and blaming each other for all of our problems.”

He shrugs, “I dunno. I guess if the situation was reversed I know you would be just as understanding.”

Smiling at him I squeeze his hand, “I’ve missed you, Ron.”

“I’ve missed you too, ‘Mione. The food is here! I’m starving!”

I roll my eyes at him and silently watch him as we eat.

“Do you think Harry will ever forgive me?”

Ron stops shoving his face full of food for a moment to think. “Yeah,” He replies as he swallows. “You know Harry, he thinks in the moment, and at the moment he’s hurt, but eventually he’ll come around. Not all guys can mature as wonderfully as me, ‘Mione.”

I roll my eyes at him. “You wish, Ronald. So tell me about the Donahue case. What do you have so far?”

 

**  
Briskly I walk across the Hogwarts grounds toward the castle. A few students are still lingering on the grounds before it is time to eat. The streaks of scarlet on the quiddtich pitch inform me that Gryffindor is working as hard as usual to insure that the house gets the Quiddtich Cup.

The air is cool and crisp as pink and red begin to leak into the sky. It is refreshing to be at Hogwarts. Reminding me of the old days and filling me with a sense of nostalgia. Even when things were hard back then, life was really simple for us. Well at least for me and Ron, but not so much for Harry.

The thought of my friends brings a pain to my chest.  Harry and I were always so close. I never thought there would be a time when we weren’t on speaking terms. Ron and I, well, I always considered the two of us falling out a possibility, but look at us now. I truly believe after lunch today we are closer than ever. Being out of Hogwarts has forced the three of us to really look at each other and now that we see each other the possibilities for what we can do together or alone are unlimited.

I will never deny it was an odd friendship. We were all so different, but that appears to be what made it work. At least for a while.

I can’t help but hope one day Harry and I might be able to be friends again, but the voice in the back of my head reminds me as long as I stay by Bellatrix’s side there is no chance that will happen. And Ron will probably chose Harry when we are all in the same room. This won’t stop me. I will not abandon Bellatrix.

Opening the heavy wooden doors of Hogwarts I step into the entrance hall. I recognize a few nameless faces. There is a flash of red hair and I catch a glimpse of Ginny before she disappears. Sadness again overwhelms me and I make my way to the headmistress’ office with a heavy heart.

Reaching the gargoyle I mumble the password and it moves aside. The spiral stairs ascend impossibly slow, and it feels as if everything is suddenly moving in slow motion.

I knock on the door and a familiar voice says, “Come in.” Hesitantly I enter; rethinking whether I should face Minerva when I am in such a bad mood yet again. “Hermione,” she states warmly when she catches sight of me.

The next thing I know I am enveloped in a warm hug. Her embrace is tight and reassuring.

“How are you my dear?” Her voice is soft in my ear.

“Better than usual, actually. How are you?”

“Wonderful. Not to be rude, but you don’t appear to be in a better mood.” I rest my head on her shoulder and let the safety of her embrace wash over me. I wish I could do this with Bellatrix.

“I had lunch with Ron today.”

“Was he a git?”

“No, he was really sweet. We’re on better terms, but Harry didn’t join us.”

“He’s a stubborn young lad. He’ll come around.”

“That’s what Ron said. Sort of.”

”I have no doubt Mr. Weasley occasionally says the right thing.” I pull far enough away from her to attempt to decipher her tone. I’m not certain whether or not she is being hostile toward Ron or merely a wise ass. When I see the sparkle in her emerald eyes I know she means no harm and smile widely at her.

She clears her throat and pulls away from me. “Your supplies are in the other room.”

I sigh, “Thanks. I should’ve started weeks ago.”

“You’ve been busy, it is understandable, and I doubt Bellatrix will fault you for it. As long as you don’t give up before you’ve started you’re fine. Let me show you where everything is.” I follow Minerva through the circular office back into her private living space. The living room is decorated in deep, warm earth tones, and has the same circular shape as the outer office.

Stacks of books and rolls of parchment are spread out over the coffee table. My mind flashes back to when I saw Bella in Minerva’s  living quarters after the Battle at Hogwarts. Returning to the present I am stunned by what is laying out for my use, “I didn’t realize there was so much.”

“I, I believe it is said as, pulled a few strings.” I roll my eyes and smile at Minerva.

“Thank you.”

“It was no problem. If you will excuse me I need to make my way down to the Great Hall. If there is anything you need feel free to call Kreacher. I believe you have everything that I can provide you with,” She glances around the room. “Ah, right.” Walking over to a picture frame resting net to the lamp on the side table she says quietly, “Albus.”

Almost instantly Professor Dumbledore appears in the frame. “Yes my dear?”

“Hermione is here.” His piercing blue eyes turn to me.

“Miss. Granger how nice to see you!”

“Professor,” I nod my head at him.

“Minerva has informed me of your interests, and I am more than willing to assist you in any way that I can.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

“Not a problem, not a problem at all.” He smiles one of his twinkling smiles at me and then disappears briefly before returning with a puffy arm chair that I have seen in another portrait around the castle.

Minerva squeezes my shoulder before wordlessly leaving the room. Looking at the copious amount of paper sitting in front of me and sigh. This is going to take a while.

 

xx  
At least four hours have gone by and I have barely made an indent in my research material. My eyes burn from lack of sleep and I suppress a yawn. Minerva has not returned.

“You know she is skeptical of Bellatrix my dear?” Dumbledore’s quiet voice causes me to jump as it penetrates the silence.

“What?” My voice is rough with sleep.

“Minerva is not completely convinced that Bellatrix has changed. She has spent many nights wondering if she has done the right thing.”

“Then why is she helping me? Why did she help Bella in the first place?”

Dumbledore settles back in his chair and observes me over his glasses. “The thing is dear, I believe Minerva could not turn Bellatrix away even if she had wanted to. Some people say she comes across as stern and cold, but both you and I know Minerva cares deeply about her students.

“They have a past. I remember the day that Minerva entered my office and informed me that young Ms. Black had shown up in her office the previous night claiming to need help in Transfiguration, but really wanting a friend. The concern in Minerva’s eyes was overwhelming. She could see that Bellatrix was struggling with many things. Minerva took Bellatrix under her care and protection. She saw so much in Bellatrix, just as she sees so much in you. But then something happened. Minerva has never talked much about it. All I can deduce is Bellatrix started pulling away from her and changing until one day the friendship the two had been building no longer existed.

“Minerva is very careful about who she lets in. Even back then, but there was something in Bellatrix that had her convinced she was doing the right thing. And no matter what she says it is obvious the Minerva has never stopped caring for Bellatrix, I believe almost as a daughter, even when she had to face her in battle. Those moments though, when she had to face the young woman that she had tried to help, tore her apart.

“So you see she couldn’t say no to Bellatrix when Madame Lestrange turned up in her office. She wanted to see the best in Bellatrix even when her mind was screaming in protest.”

“But why try to help Bellatrix now? “

“Because she has strong faith in your judgment of character, Miss Granger. If you believe this is the right thing to do then she will help you to the best of her abilities.”

The door opens and I glance over my shoulder. Minerva enters the room looking exhausted. “How is the research going?” She asks.

“Okay,” I reply quietly. I remove the litter of notes I have been taking from beside me, and pat the newly exposed cushion of the sofa.

She takes a seat and I quickly stand, moving to the cupboard that I know holds the liquor. I place ice in the glass and then poor the scotch. Returning to the sofa I pass her the tumbler. “Thank you,” She says in hushed tones. Minerva leans back into the sofa and I sit, copying her actions.

“I think I will give you two some privacy. Call me if you need any more help, Hermione.” Dumbledore disappears before I can reply.

“Have you found anything useful?”

“A few things. Professor Dumbledore was a great help.”

“Yes, I find he tends to be. At least for now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Eventually he will no longer be able to keep up with current events, and he will only be able to give advice based on what he knew when he was alive. An essence of him is the only thing that remains in that portrait.”

“He seems pretty insightful to me.”

“That is a quality I don’t believe will ever fade.” I smile at her.

We sit in silence as the stress of the day seeps out of our tense muscles and filters out of the room.

“Bellatrix thinks she deserves to be in Azkaban,” I blurt out. The thought has been nagging me all night. What if she really wants to be there? What if what I am trying to do will only make things worse for her?

“But you don’t, however, if Bellatrix was any other prisoner you would…”

“If she were any other prisoner she might be given a second chance.”

“In a way she has been given her second chance, Hermione.”

“If that is true then why is she back in Azkaban? She has done nothing wrong. In fact she has only been trying to make up for what she has done!”

“Very few people know that.”

“So why call it a second chance?” I can feel my anger and frustration rising. I know Bellatrix doesn’t deserve to be in Azkaban even if she herself doesn’t. “She has already punished herself more than Azkaban ever will,” My voice is barely more than a whisper.

“I know,” Minerva says just as quietly.

Yawning I bring my legs up to my chest, cross my arms around them, and rest my head on my knees.

“You can stay here tonight if you want to.” A faint smile dances across my lips at Minerva’s offer. “How do you know that Bellatrix has really changed?”

“I just do.”

She smiles, “Long ago I might have had the same answer. I have letters I have to write, unfortunately, so I will leave you to your books.”

“Here.” I grab a stack of blank parchment, a quill, and book for her to use as a flat surface. “You can do that here.”

“I don’t want to bother you.”

“You won’t. Besides you need to relax.”

She smiles at me before I return to pouring over the book I had set down.

 

**  
Clocking out I decide to stop in the research archives again and gather new material.  Sighing I step in the elevator and I think about the amount of time that has passed with no actions other than research. It’s been almost two months since I last saw Bellatrix. A hollow ache has begun to throb inside of me. Making its presence within me stronger every day.

Entering the silent room, I find it completely deserted other than the clerk. I send him a small wave and then move to the familiar space in the back of the room. I skim the books and parchments taking a few things off the shelves.

As I flip through the parchment a passage jumps out at me. I re-read it a few times not wanting to fill myself with false hope.

I rush to the front desk and sign it out. I practically run into the front lobby and slide as I apparate out of the building.

 

**  
Frantically I knock on the office door. The door opens and I am face to face with Minerva. I wave the parchment in my hand in her face as I attempt to catch my breath. I ran all the way here from Hogsmeade.

“Goodness. Come in Hermione.”

“I found,” I wave the parchment again. Clutching my side I try to continue, “Might work… need to…Dumbledo…you.”

“Slow down and try again.”

Talking a deep rattling breath I follow her instructions. “I found this in the archives. I think it might work. I wanted you and Professor Dumbledore to look at it first.” She takes the piece of paper from my hand and I begin to pace. My eyes never leave Minerva as her eyes dart across the paper as she takes in the contents of the page.

“Albus.”

“Right here, Minerva.”

“Look at this. Do you think it could possibly work?” She flicks her wand and the empty picture frame from the other room zooms into her open hand. Dumbledore appears in it and Minerva holds up the parchment for him to read.

If I wasn’t so overwhelmed with nerves and excitement I might find this sight amusing. “There is only one way to find out.”

“Can’t they charge me with hiding Bellatrix?”

“Not if you’ve already been found innocent. The Wizarding laws are much like the Muggle’s laws.”

“Then it looks like I need to talk to Shacklebolt.”

 

**  
“Hermione, I got your message. You want to talk?” Switching my attention from the paperwork on my desk to the Minister of Magic in the doorway and smile.

“Kingsley,” I glance around the not so private room, which is stuffed with cubicles. I catch Tonks’ eye and she smiles nervously at me. “Yeah, I do. Could we talk somewhere more private perhaps?”

“Of course,” he says in a warm, booming voice. “My office.” He turns and I hurry to follow him.

Once we are in his office and have exchanged pleasantries my nerves begin to rage full force. I glance around the room. The decorations are sparse, but the room is still welcoming. If I hadn’t been doing what I am about to do I might enjoy the welcoming atmosphere more.

“What do you want to talk about?” I think about my newly secured position as auror. I think about the friends I used to have, and I think about the people who might get in trouble. But then I think about Bellatrix, and I think about Azkaban, and I am given strength.

“Bellatrix Lestrange.” His calm expression does not falter. However, I catch a flicker of suspicion in his dark eyes.

“What about her?” His tone has lost a level of friendliness.

“I don’t think she belongs in Azkaban,” I put on a mask of confidence.

“What makes you think that?”

“She’s changed.”

“Do you have evidence of this?” I can tell with each passing minute his suspicions are being confirmed.

Taking a deep breath I prepare to tell him what I have told very few. “She saved my life, she saved Tonks’ life, and she helped defeat Voldemort.”

“She what?” His expression does change this time. He is skeptical.

“She saved my life at the Malfoy Manor. She pushed Tonks’ out of the way of a killing curse during the Final Battle, and she made a plan with an unnamed person that lead to defeating of Lord Voldemort. I’ve done my research…”

“Hermione…”

“Just hear me out. I’ve done my research. There is this one case where the defendant was released from Azkaban because people spoke for him…”

“You helped hide Bellatrix didn’t you?”

“Yes I did, but…”

“You openly admit it?” There is too much adrenaline coursing through my system to sit so I stand up and begin to pace.

“Yes I do, but according to the Wizarding law I have already been found innocent so you cannot charge me again for the same crime. Double Jeopardy.”

Shacklebolt sighs. “I had my suspicions. Something about your reaction when we capture Bellatrix seemed wrong to me. “

“When you captured Bellatrix what did she do?”

“What do you mean what did she do? You saw the whole thing.” I move in front of his desk.

“Just tell me, what did she do?”

“She…she handed me her wand.”

“Exactly. Now are those the actions of an insane killer.”

“Not the stereotypical one, but…”

“But what? Even every day citizens would attempt to fight off the Ministry if it meant they wouldn’t have to go to Azkaban.”

“Why are you so sure? How do you know this is not just an act?”

“I just do. You have to trust me on this…”

“I’ve known you for years now Hermione, and I highly respect you, but I don’t think I can…”

“I have a list of people who might be willing to testify that Bellatrix is different during her trial. She still is allowed her right to trial isn’t she?”

“She doesn’t want one.” I pause for a moment. _‘She doesn’t want one.’ ‘Bellatrix thinks she deserves to be in Azkaban.’ ‘You don’t, however if Bellatrix was any other prisoner…’’ You shouldn’t be here with me.’ ‘She wasn’t always so horrible.’_ ‘ _Minerva is not completely convinced that Bellatrix has changed.’_

_‘I think you did the right thing.’_

_‘I’m a murderer.’_

_‘How do you know? You see the person you want to. What if I haven’t changed? What if I can’t change?’_

_‘You have changed Bella. I know you can’t see it but I can, and I want to help you see it too.’_

I know she has changed.

“Please just look at this.” I pass him the list of names

His eyes skim them. “I can’t risk their reputations Hermione. I’m sorry. Even if I was considering letting Bellatrix out of Azkaban.”

“Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said. I have the proof; all of these people will back me up. I know they will. What if I got their agreement in writing?”

“I’m not risking it. Dromeda and Tonks can’t afford for Tonks to lose her job. The Weasley’s have enough problems on their hands. Minerva McGonagall? Hermione if anyone ever found out she helped free one of the most notorious mass murderers in wizarding history, parents would pull their students out of Hogwarts left and right. She will lose her position. There are too many risks.”

“So that’s it?”

“I’m sorry. Think about it this way. Azkaban is the safest place for Bellatrix to be. Do you know exactly how many people want her dead?”

“She doesn’t deserve to be there. She was trying to fix things….she…she…”

“The answer is no.” He is silent for a moment. His eyes are burning holes in me. He sighs, “I’m sorry.”

“I… at least…at least let me see her. Please.”

To my surprise I can see him actually considering my request. “You do know that if you were almost anyone else I would have already dismissed you. But we did work in the Order together so my answer is yes, under two conditions.”

“Anything.”

“You’ll take aurors of my choice with you. Azkaban changes even the best of people, and nobody, absolutely nobody except for those who already know about this will find out about your visit, or what you were trying to do.”

“Deal.”

“Then it looks like you will be taking your first trip to Azkaban next week.”

 

**  
The screams of insanity are almost as chilling as the cold that follows in the dementor’s path. Shacklebolt leads me, Tonks, and Jones toward the high security cells.

The closer we get the louder the screams become and the icy presence intensifies. Shacklebolt gestures with his hands and the dementor’s float away to suck the happiness out of others. At the very end of the hall he unlocks the cell door and stands aside.

I duck into the cell and wait until the bars are closed but not locked behind me. My companions step off to the side; I believe to give us a small amount of privacy. Shacklebolt was going to have Harry and Ron come with us but I informed him that Harry and I are not on good terms, and thankfully he found two other people.

I attempt to focus on the objects in the dark cell I wait as my eye sight adjusts.

When it does I find Bellatrix curled into herself in the corner. She has not bothered to glance my direction or check to see who has entered her cell.

Carefully I approach her. I don’t wanting to make her uncomfortable or scare her since I can tell she is lost in thought. I rest my hand on her thin shoulder.

When she looks up at me with black ringed eyes surprise shines through her gaunt features. “Hey, Bella,” I say casually as I send her a kind smile.

“What…what are you doing here?” Her voice is hoarse. I hold out my hand and she takes it. I help her up. I can feel her shaking with effort under my fingers. Leaning into her I want to bring our lips together but she turns her head at the last second. “Don’t.”

I nod and brush my lips against her cool cheek instead. I back up so that I can look at her properly as we speak, but I refuse to let go of her hand.

“I am an auror now,” I explain. “I’ve been doing research.” Her eyes flicker to meet mine before leaving me again. I move my lips to her ear, “I’m going to get you out of here.”

“Don’t,” she whispers back. “This is where I belong.”

“No, it’s not.” I pull back from her again. I observe as she lifts a shaky hand and traces the silver chain around my neck with a finger. She takes the pendant in her hand and gazes at me. A small smile grazes my lips.

“Dromeda says that she is thinking about you and that she loves you.” Bellatrix nods. I can see the confusion suddenly seeping into her features.

“Why are you being so nice to me after everything I have done?”

“As a wise friend of mine recently said, if the situation was reversed I know you would be just as understanding.”  My lips find her ear again. “I miss you.”

“You should go.” She pulls away from me. Moving further in to the corner. I take out my wand. Her eyes wander to it, but she looks unconcerned. With a flick of my wrist she is clean. She opens her mouth to say something, but chooses not to.

I wish she would stop pulling away. I wish she would let me touch her. Hold her. Take her away from here. Bellatrix has never been like that though, I can tell, and Azkaban is not going to change that fact.

This cell is cold. Colder than the ones in the front of the building. Slipping out of my traveling cloak I cautiously move closer to Bellatrix and cover her with it. “I’m going to get you out of here.”

She gazes at me with pleading eyes, and I realize I have only once ever seen Bellatrix this vulnerable. I watch the debate going on inside of her before she leans into me. I wrap my arms around her, holding her closely for a moment. She pulls away so she can look at me. “I need to stay here, Hermione.”

“No. No you don’t.” She nods. “I can’t live with myself if you are trapped in here.”

“This is where I belong. Life will be easier for you if you move on. I can take care of myself. You have your whole life ahead of you.  I know you will be fine,” As she says this she pulls me closer.

“I won’t.”

“You need to go,” She pushes me away with force. I gaze at her with confusion and hurt, but she has turned her back to me. Sighing I turn and leave the cell.

“Where is your cloak?” I barely spare Shacklebolt a glance at his question. I am too preoccupied with being the one to close the cell door. When I do I lock eyes with Bellatrix’s dark, sad ones, and I see one of the things I had been fearing the most.

Bellatrix is falling apart.


	13. Chapter 13

**Story:** When Everything Changed

 **Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

 **Rated:** M

 **Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.**

**A/N 3: Not the original. Revised and Reposted.**

“To be brave is to love someone unconditionally, without expecting anything in return. To just give. That takes courage; because we don't want to fall on our faces or leave ourselves open to hurt.” **-** Madonna **  
_____________________________________________________________________________________**

**Bellatrix's POV**

The creaking of the cell door echoes in the empty chamber. Closing my eyes I take a deep breath and hope my visitor is not whom I think it is. I can’t have Hermione here, and I constantly wish for her to forgive and forget me. It is the only way for her to move on. For her to be happy. At the same time I want nothing more than for it to be Hermione entering this cell. With naïve promises of love and freedom.

I don’t think I can handle seeing her again. I won’t survive the emotions if Hermione leaves me one more time. I will drown in them until my lungs burn with the unspoken words and subtle hints. With memories and sensations. She will be the end of me.

The footsteps are familiar, but are too heavy to be Hermione’s. Disappointment wells inside of me. I don’t bother to turn and face my visitor. I cannot be bothered by those I do not care about. “ Madame Lestrange,” says a deep, male voice.

“Shacklebolt,” I reply quietly. Venom is useless. Disdain pointless. I have no upper hand. I do not believe myself to be any better than this man.

“I have an intriguing story for you Madame Lestrange.”

“Really?” I ask in a bored tone. “Do tell.”

“I had a young woman come into my office a month ago. I believe you know her well; Miss Granger?” I shift uncomfortably and stare down at my fidgety hands. “She was convinced you have changed. Why do you suppose that could be?”

I shrug and turn toward him, not yet meeting his eyes. “Maybe she is losing it.” I flick my eyes up and lock them with his. I hold his probing gaze and refuse to back down.

“Is that so? Nice cloak. Where’d you get it?” I tug the garment that is draped over my shoulders tighter around myself.

Sometimes I can still catch Hermione’s lingering scent on the fabric. The smell is soothing and welcomed. “It’s Hermione’s.” I don’t have to see his expression to hear the gears rapidly turning in his mind.

“It is amazing how much she appears to care for you. One can only wonder if…”

“If what Shacklebolt?” I am sure that he can hear the warning in my tone.

“Never mind. It can’t possibly be…” I know what he wants to say; it can’t possibly be that Bellatrix Lestrange cares for anyone other than herself. Sometimes I still believe that too.

I meet the eyes that have not left me since their owner’s arrival. The next words slip from my lips before I can stop them, “How is she?” A genuine smile spreads across Shacklebolt’s face.

“Maybe it is possible that the snake can feel affection for an owl. The owl is one of the snake’s only predators, you know. I haven’t talked to her in a while, but when I’ve seen Hermione lately, in passing, she has looked tired and withdrawn.”

Closing my eyes Hermione’s smiling face appears. It is quickly pushed aside by an image of Hermione that is far less comforting. Then my freshest memory of her descends upon my musings. At the time I had not noticed how much older she appeared. I had been too shocked by the fact that Hermione was actually standing in front of me. I hadn’t seen the hints of exhaustion on her usually perfect features. My head slams into the stone wall. Eyes remaining shut I ask, “Does Hermione know you’re here?” My voice comes our quietly. It is rougher with emotion than I would have preferred.

“No.” Shacklebolt’s voice has changed. I no longer can hear the clipped, harsh tones. Dare I say, he almost sounds kind?

“Hopefully you’re planning on keeping it that way.”

“I am.” He stands and I realize he intends to leave. My arm darts out, hand catching his wrist, as my eyes snap open. He gazes at me and I can see the confusion and wariness in his eyes.

I return his gaze with a pleading stare of my own. I don’t care how desperate or vulnerable I look at the moment. I only have one thought on my mind and I am determined to have it voiced, “Don’t let Hermione come back here.”

He raises a disbelieving eyebrow at me. “What makes you think I have any power over her? Hermione is unusually stubborn.”

“Please,” It is no more than a whisper, but by the shock that settles on his face I know that I have said the one word I have vowed never to use with those I do not hold close to my heart.

“I will try, Madame Lestrange. This visit was much more pleasant than I had anticipated it to be.”

“Next time call me Bellatrix.” It’s odd how much I loathe the title I have held for years.

“Yes well, goodbye Bellatrix.”

“Minister,” I nod in his direction and stand as he leaves the cell. I walk to the barred window and stare at the vicious sea below

I can hear Shacklebolt’s deep soothing tones outside of my cage. Suddenly the frigid air retreats providing me with a slight amount of relief. I can sense the presence of fear and death has not deserted me. It is only waiting to strike; waiting, until there are no longer viable witnesses to testify to my torture. Wrapping my fingers around the icy bars of the window they burn my skin as the outside air nips at my presented skin.

Never have I regretted my actions more than I do right now.

 

**  
My eyes snap open as a rough, unfamiliar voice scrapes through my dreams and into my conscious. I am yanked off the hard, stone bed and barley manage to grab Hermione’s cloak before I am pushed in front of the man. “Where are we going?” I say in a voice dripping with disdain and anger.

“You’ll see.” I struggle to keep my footing as we walk through the halls of Azkaban. Faces peer through bars. I hear gasps and mumbling at the sight of me. I see sneers and fear, but the worst of what I see is in those who have no reaction. Because it is from them that the insanity filled laughter emits. It is from them I receive the blank stares and see the shaking, frail frames. They are what once again sparks the voice in my head that says, _that could be you_. There is a fine line between the sane and the insane.

The old wooden doors are opened by a set of invisible hands to reveal and ominous, stormy sky and unwelcoming body of water. “You’ve got ten minutes. Do with it what you like.” The guard informs me as he leans against the building. I look around expecting to find ministry guards and officials waiting for me, but there is no one. All there is, is rocky land that very quickly and very dangerously tapers off into unforgiving water.

Unsteadily I walk: the rocks sharp against my bare feet, and my legs are unsupportive due to lack of use. The fresh air is bitter and harsh against my exposed skin. Not how I remember it. The last time the breeze came to my attention it was welcoming as I sat with Hermione on Dromeda’s lawn and watched Teddy play in the grass. I remember it lifted Hermione’s sun soaked locks playfully. It was nothing like the air surrounding Azkaban.

I wander, stepping precariously on unstable ground, until my poor sense of time tells me that I should probably head back. However, when I reach the entrance the man is no longer there. I put little effort into my search for the assumed guard before taking a seat beneath a dead tree. Cautiously I lean against it and close my eyes.

This is strange. If I had more energy I might use it to be wary of my newfound freedom. I could leave if I wanted to… Instead I will use this time to think without the restraint of the dementors’ power.

The soles of my feet sting. Examining the ground that I walked upon I notice a dark path of footprints I did not observe before. Lifting one of my feet I find deep gashes in it. I am leaking red almost black blood, and fine grains of sand along with pebbles have embedded themselves in the abrasions.

Groaning I put my foot down. Wrapping my arms around my legs I rest my head on my knees and listen to the violent crashing of the waves.

After what feels like a lifetime I hear approaching footsteps. My body is frozen so I do not lift my head until a familiar voice fills my ears, “Come on, Bellatrix let’s get you inside.”

Confusion and relief fills me as I lay eyes on the owner of the voice. “Tonks?” My niece stops next to me and gazes down with a kind expression. “What are you doing here? What’s going on?”

“I’m here to bring you back to your cell.” She holds a hand out to me as she rolls her eyes. I never thought I would be so glad to see her impatience. Tonks’ hand is warm and feels odd against my own.

I grasp Tonks’ arm tightly, afraid she will disappear, as I limp to the doors of Azkaban. She waves her wand and the ancient wood creaks open. “Who was the man that took me from my cell earlier?”

“Friedrich. He’s a new auror.” She leans closer to me and looks around. “I never thought I would say this, but I’ve missed you.”

I chuckle quietly, “Who would have guessed?” I hiss in pain as a particularly raw spot of my foot collides with the stone ground.

“Here,” Tonks takes my arm and drapes it over her shoulders. “I’ll do my best to heal you once we’ve gotten back to your cell.” I gratefully rest against her.

“I’ve missed you too, Tonks. How are Dromeda and Teddy?” As we approach my current living quarters the dementors begin to move in.

Tonks raises her wand and pulls me closer. The dementors ignore her actions. “Expecto Patronum,” she bellows and a large four-legged creature erupts from the tip of her wand. As the silver creature crashes with the dark monsters the dementors quickly glide away from the space around us.

She opens the barred door and we enter my cell. Sitting, I watch as Tonks waves her wand over my feet. The sensation is odd as debris leaves my wounds and they partially heel themselves. Tonks conjures fabric out of thin air and then wraps my feet tightly in the bandages. “You will be sore for the next few days.” Sighing she takes a seat next to me. “Teddy and Mom are doing well. Teddy said his first word a few weeks ago. Mom misses you terribly and is trying to go on as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening in her life.” I wonder if I will have to bring up Hermione or if she will. Judging by the silence that has descended upon us I will have to when I am ready.

“Have you seen Professor McGonagall lately?”

“Yes, actually,” She pulls a small pouch from her robes and hands it to me. I raise my eyebrow at Tonks. “I’ve put a charm on it. There are letters in there from a few people. Food. A picture of Teddy and another cloak from Hermione. Shacklebolt doesn’t know about this so if you could keep it hidden I would appreciate it. Harry gave me an idea when he was talking about Sirius so there is a mirror in there; Mom, Hermione, Professor McGonagall, and I have one too. All you have to do is say one of our names into it and you can talk to us. If ever need anything you know what to do.”

“I…Thank you…you have no clue how much this means to me…”

Tonks smiles at me. “You’re welcome. I have to get going.” I stand to walk her to the entrance. She surprises me by pulling me into a hug. I return the gesture gripping onto my niece tightly.

I watch her walk away through the bars of my cell door. Reaching beneath the thin cloth of my shirt I wrap my fingers around the pouch thinking of what it contains.

Wondering if I am ready to face what it holds.

  
  
  
**  
Sighing I set the pouch in front of me. It has been two days and I have still not opened the small object. Whatever is in there cannot be as bad as what my mind has created.

Holding my breath I reach in and grab what feels like a bundle of letters. Pulling them out I gaze down at the first one. The envelope is blank. As I slip it out of its bindings my fingers brush a seal on the back. I can help but smile as I trace the crest with my finger. Slipping a finger beneath the seal I dislodge it before taking out the thick piece of parchment. Unfolding it I instantly recognize the flourished handwriting captured in emerald green ink.

_Bella,  
I find much of my time lately has been consumed by worry. I worry about your state in that God awful place. I worry that I will never see you again. I worry that you will soon receive the dementor’s kiss. After talking to Hermione these concerns have only increased, and the fear of losing you haunts me. I’ve never told you this Bella, but you have always been like a daughter to me, and I suppose now is a good enough time as any to assure you of that. Tonks came to visit me a few days ago informing me of her intentions the next time she had the chance to visit you. I have enclosed a few things that I hope will be helpful. Please take care of yourself Bellatrix._

_Fondly,  
Minerva_

I close my eyes to stop the tears from falling. I once again dig around in the leather pouch until I wrap my hand around a mirror handle. The object is silver and covered in an intricate design with a reflective surface on the front. I mumble, “Professor McGonagall,” and quickly look away. I cannot bear the sight of my own reflection. When I return my attention to the mirror I find myself staring up at the ceiling of the headmistress’ office. I believe I am seeing it from the desk. I can hear my professor’s voice in the distance. “Professor McGonagall?” I ask perhaps a little too loudly for this place.

There is a rustling followed by shushes. Suddenly the view becomes blurry and sickening as the mirror is picked up. “Bella.” I hear before I can see Professor McGonagall. Her voice is laced with relief.

As her kind face comes into view I can feel some tension easing from my shoulders. “Professor.”

“For Christ sake Bellatrix call me Minerva; you are a grown woman. Even Hermione calls me Minerva,” she says with amusement twinkling in her dark eyes.

“I’ll try. How are you?”

“I’m well my dear. How are you fairing?”

“All right.” The silence that follows is different. Awkward.

“I don’t know what to say, Bellatrix. Only that I hope Hermione can find a way to get you out of there soon.”

I hang my head, “Yes well…well I should probably let you go. You are most likely busy.”

She sighs, “Yes I am. I will talk to you later?”

“Yeah,” I send her what I am hoping is a convincing smile. Setting down the mirror I know I can’t suffer through proper goodbyes.

Laying down I groan. There are at least two more letters, but I know I will not have the energy to read them for at least a few days. Dealing with people is more draining that I had thought it would be.

  
**  
 _I packed my bag slowly as my heart beat in my ears and my hands shook slightly. Glancing up I noted that the room was emptying out._

_“What’s taking you so long? We’re going to be late for potions.” I looked up at Alecto Carrow with frustration._

_“Go on without me. I’ve got to get help with the homework.”_

_I could see the disbelief on her face. “Are you really going to ask that muggle loving, imposter of a teacher to help you with a subject that holds no weight outside this school?”_

_I had to stop myself from gawking. This was my first year, but I had never heard even the bravest of Slytherins challenge Professor McGonagall’s standing as a witch._

_Putting on an empty expression I sneered at her. “I wouldn’t if I had a choice.” She shrugged; accepting my answer._

_“Just don’t take too long. We are brewing today and you know how I am with potion making.” I nodded and waited for her to leave before approaching Professor McGonagall._

_She had her back to me as she returned the various shapes that were supposed to be needles back into matches for the next class. I wondered if she had overheard my conversation with Alecto. I cleared my throat and she turned toward me._

_“Ms. Black, how may I help you?”_

_“I was wondering if I could set up a time with you to go over the homework. I don’t quite understand the mechanics behind the Switching Spell.”_

_“I find that hard to believe seeing as you are achieving great progress with transfiguring objects.”_

_I found myself blushing at her statement, “Yes, but I feel that what is hindering me from perfecting the spell is my lack of understanding.”_

_“Very well, but only if you don’t mind learning from a muggle loving imposter.”_

_I stilled my features though I wanted to cringe. Instead I put on an air of superiority, “I can manage.”_

_Her words were cold when they met my ears. “Meet me here at seven.”_

__  
  
xx  
I knocked on the door and entered when she granted me permission. Once again I found myself a slave to an unsteady hand, rapidly beating heart, and knot in my stomach.

_Professor McGonagall looked up from a stack of papers and motioned to a table in the front of the room. Quickly I sat and attempted to hide how nervous I was. I pulled the transfiguration article out of my bag that I purposely read for this meeting and a piece of parchment and quill. The silence between us made me shift in my seat while I waited._

_Finally Professor McGonagall stood up and walked up to the desk I was sitting at. “Should we start from the beginning, Ms. Black?”_

_I shrugged and watched as she came around the desk and sat beside me. I refused to look up from my hands in my lap. I watched as I toyed with the end of my tie. Maybe this was a mistake, I thought. Surely there is someone else._

_There were rare moments when I wished I wasn’t a Slytherin; that I wasn’t part of an elite wizarding family that was involved in the dark arts, and this was one of those times. I wouldn’t have issues approaching Professor McGonagall, or explaining to my friends that I just wanted to talk to her: to somebody, for once._

_“If we are not going to go over the homework I must ask that you leave, Bellatrix. I have assignments that need to be graded.”_

_“Have you read the Clarke article yet?” I shyly asked. I made sure to find a recent article to discuss. I didn’t want Professor McGonagall to have to have a conversation about an old, out of date source in order to please me._

_“I’m afraid I have not had the chance yet. I’ve heard his theory on permanently bringing objects to life instead of using Inanimatus Conjurus have been proved accurate more than once.”_

_“It’s really quite fascinating! I have the article here if you would like to borrow it.” I stated as I began to relax. I smiled at Professor McGonagall; I could see the surprise twinkling in her eyes and it raised my hopes. I was finally doing something right._

_“Why don’t you tell me about it?”_

_I immediately launched into a summary of the article for Professor McGonagall; occasionally stopping to insert my opinion and ask questions. I felt myself relaxing back in my seat as a sensation of safety washed over me._

_I enjoyed hearing Professor McGonagall’s opinions, and was thankful that when I asked questions she did not explain the answer to me as if she were speaking to a child, but rather to an equal._

_The ringing of the bell from the clock tower informed us that it was nine-thirty._

_“We didn’t even touch on the Switching Spell.”_

_“That’s fine.” The expression on Professor McGonagall’s face changed for a mere second; not long enough for me to decipher it._

_“Let me write you a note so you do not get in trouble for breaking curfew.” She went to stand up but I handed her my parchment and quill so she didn’t have to._

_When I was at the door I bit my bottom lip before turning around. “Professor?”_

_“Yes, Ms. Black?”_

_“Can I come back next week?”_

_She glanced at me from the spot at her desk, “Same time, but in my office.”_

_I smiled at her before leaving the room._

_**  
“Have you heard of the Death Eaters?” I asked Professor McGonagall as I continued to work on the my study material for the O.W.L.S. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed that she set down her glass of tea and focused intently on me. I shifted my gaze to meet hers. _

_“I have. What do you know about them?”_

_“Only that they are followers of a man named Lord Voldemort, and that their ranks are growing larger every day.”_

_“Do you know anyone who has joined them?”_

_“No,” I sent her a look that clearly stated that she would be getting no information out of me even though I had some._

_My parents were the first to join the Death Eaters in my family. They did not speak much about it, and I was curious what they were involved in. I heard my friends talking about how their family had joined too, and that they were planning to once they were of age. I had been considering it, but that was not something I wanted Professor McGonagall to know. I could only imagine her disapproval._

_The way she was looking at me I made me believe she had her suspicions._

_“You will have to make a choice one day, Bellatrix. I have faith that you will make the right one.”_

_It broke my heart knowing that ‘the right one’ held a different meaning to each of us._

**

_Her intense gaze was upon me, but I knew I could not tell her what had happened. Nobody was allowed to know what my father continued to do to me when I went home. It was my choice ultimately, and I chose to protect my sisters._

_“Bella, please tell me what‘s wrong.” I looked up into Professor McGonagall’s eyes and felt guilty. I felt rage and helplessness. Even the warmth in her eyes could not erase the intense emotions flooding me._

_I hated her for caring. I hated her for leading me to believe that I was cared about. I wanted out of this room. Out of my life._

_“What the fuck do you want from me?” She looked startled._

_I wished I could tell her: tell her about my father, about my decision to join the Death Eaters, and all the pressure that was put on me by my friends for frequently visiting to her office for help. I wished she knew how much I was risking by continuing to see her, and by standing up for her against other Slytherins. I wanted to tell her of the pressure I had put on myself, and the new knowledge I had been gaining by studying the dark arts, and how briefly I had considered using that knowledge to learn how to combat the dark arts but thought better of it._

_I would have risked my life if I had said I would not join the Death Eaters when my parents sat me down and asked me for my decision. I told them it was early: that I hadn’t even finished my fifth year, and they replied by informing me the Dark Lord likes to know who he can count on to join him. They said they were proud of me for my decision, because the Dark Lord had never asked for a young woman to join his ranks, and it was the first time I had heard them say that. However, when I had finally managed to mumble a yes the only person I could think of was Professor McGonagall._

_I wished I could tell her: tell her about how I wanted to run away._

_“Don’t use that tone…”Professor McGonagall snapped._

_“I don’t give a fuck about my tone! I can’t deal with this,” I interrupted and darted from the room._

_There was no turning back now._

_**  
Rodulphus has his arm slung around my shoulders he shouted jovially along with our friends about how we made it, and the amazing new life ahead of us. We were in the entrance hall leaving Hogwarts for the last time._

_I had my arm crossed over my stomach to protect our secret from the jostling crowd around us. Rodulphus pulled me tighter to him and I complied. The doors were so close and it seemed like I had a world of possibilities welcoming me on the other side, yet, the closer I got to them the more I wanted to run in the other direction._

_I was ready to join the Death Eaters. I hadn’t been readier for anything in my life, but I wanted to do it without Rodulphus. I was strong enough for all of the obstacles I would have to face: being the only woman in the Death Eaters, living away from home, and having a child on my own. I knew I could do it, and I hated the fact that I was supposed to depend on Rodulphus._

_A figure standing on the stairs caught my attention. When I turned to see who it was I locked eyes with Professor McGonagall. Disappointment and hurt were on her face; it was the first time I had seen her publicly display emotion. The longer I looked at her the more the creature inside of me clawed at me and filled me with guilt._

_I forced myself to turn away, however, as Rodulphus and I walked out of Hogwarts I looked back over my shoulder at Professor McGonagall._

**  
My eyes snap open. I am breathing heavily and covered in cold sweat. It has soaked through the thin article of clothing I am wearing. I grab Hermione’s cloak, which at some point fell to the floor, and wrap it around myself.

The presence of the dementors has become heavier than when I first fell asleep.

The image of Minerva’s face as I left Hogwarts is there every time I close my eyes to try to calm myself down.

I wished in that moment I had known how life was really going to be and not what I had been promised it would be. If I had known the consequences of the decisions I had made I would have turned around and run back through those doors. I would have dropped to my knees and begged Minerva for my forgiveness.

 I would have asked her how I could make things right again before it was too late and I turned into a monster.

  
**  
Brushing the pouch with my fingers I glance around. It’s been two weeks and I still have not read Hermione’s letter. I did read Dromeda’s though. I decide not to risk it now. Even though it appears as if I am alone out here I know I am not.

Sometimes I can feel eyes on me, but no matter how desperately I search I cannot find the source of them.

Over the past two weeks being taken outside of Azkaban has become an unplanned routine. It happens randomly at any time of the day. I am always escorted out by someone who I do not know, and I am left out here past when I am told I will be taken back in. However, I am always taken back inside by someone I know. So far I have been taken inside by Tonks, Dromeda, Minerva, and once by Molly Weasley. That was not the most pleasant experience, but she was not unkind. Only hesitant to be around me.

Currently I am sitting on the edge of the island. Teetering consciously on the verge of death. All it would take is a slight wind, the rock beneath me to cave in, a wrong movement, and I would be sent plunging into the sea.

Light footsteps sound behind me. I continue to stare out into the unreachable distance. My mind far away with another.

“Hey, Bella,” says a soft voice.

My head whips around as disbelief spreads through my body. “Hermione?” She sends me a sad smile and moves closer to me. She stops as she realizes how I am unstably perched.

Her chocolaty eyes watch me with muted hope. Carefully I get up and walk over to her. She instantly entwines out fingers and drags me over further behind the prison.

Hermione comes to an abrupt stop and I almost crash into her. When she turns to me she is confronted with a shocked expression. “What?”

I shake my head. “It’s nothing. I just am surprised you’re here. That’s all.”

She nods her head. Out of the corner of my eye I catch her shakily raising her free hand. I gaze deeply into those eyes. The fact that she is okay, and that she is here with me causes a giddy sensation to stir in the pit of my stomach.

I should pull away. I shouldn’t get Hermione’s hopes up. But it is physically impossible for me to move away from this moment.

Hermione rests her hand on my cheek and I lean into her touch. Searching for temporary comfort. My eyes flutter shut and I marvel at the feeling of her soft skin against my icy skin. I sense her moving closer. Opening my eyes there is only a few inches between us. Her breath is warm as it caresses my lips.

Before I can stop myself I pull Hermione into an embrace. My free hand tangles in her hair as I push our bodies flush together. Hermione’s arm snakes around my back. Untangling out fingers my other hand finds the nape of her neck and I hold Hermione closely. I can feel her fingers weaving into my hair as I bury my face in her shoulder.

There is a lump in my throat and tears are building. Burning my eyes. I take an unsteady breath and Hermione pulls me closer. I feel her lips brush lightly against my head.

“I’ve missed you,” Hermione whispers into my ear.

I nod, “I’ve missed you too.” My grip on her tightens.

I’m not supposed to care about Hermione this much. I’m not supposed to expose so much emotion; yet I find myself doing both right now. It is unnerving.

“Let’s go inside.” I silently agree, however, I refuse to remove my arm from around Hermione’s waist. She does not seem to mind and leans into me as we walk to the front of the prison.

Once we are in the cell she closes the door and the next thing I know her lips are against mine in a frantic, needy kiss. I kiss Hermione back with just as much emotion. She tastes sweet against my lips. Realizing what I am doing I pull way, yet I remain in her arms.

The expression of hurt that greats me is overwhelming.

Hermione leans in once again and when our lips touch it is in a kiss of passion. Gentle and timid.

I cannot deny her. At least not today.

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Story:** When Everything Changed

 **Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

 **Rated:** M

 **Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.**

**_This is my longest chapter so far ! It seems suiting considering the fact that this is my returning chapter.  
_ ** **_____________________________________________________________________________________**

**Hermione’s POV**

My eyes wander over the open room: wooden floors, a fire place, a lofted space, and a quick check reveals a decent sized bathroom. I turn to Richard, the landlord, and smile. “I’ll take it.”

“I hoped you would.”

I was nervous as I stood on the sidewalk waiting for Richard so I could view the flat. However, when I was approached by a kind, older man my nerves were erased.

“If you would join me in my flat we can go over paperwork and make final negotiations. I’ll make tea.” He smiles sweetly at me.

I follow him down to the bottom floor and into his home. As I sit at the table I pull the newspaper closer to me as Richard places the kettle on the stove for tea. I feel my eyebrows shoot toward my hairline as I recognize the newspaper to be today’s issue of the _Daily Prophet_.

“Now Hermione, the first issue I wanted to address with you is the means of payment.”

My eyes are taking in all of the magical gadgets I had not observed at first. I note that Richard has turned to face me, “Why didn’t you bother to hide your possessions?”

“There aren’t many Hermione Grangers in the wizarding world, love.”

I feel my jaw drop. The first time I was recognized I thought it was just a random thing. But since then it has happened more and more frequently and I’m not sure how I feel about it.

Richard chuckles, “Still not used to your fame I see. I’m sure you will be soon; your face has been in the paper almost every day since You Know Who fell.”

“I guess I should start reading the _Daily Prophet_ more often. What was this about means of payment?”

“You can pay in wizarding money if you would like. I know what a pain it is to go into Gringotts every time you need an exchange.”

I don’t say anything, but I wonder if I am still allowed in Gringotts since the incident at the Lestrange vault. I haven’t needed to withdraw money yet, but I will soon.

Richard waves his wand and the cups fly toward us as the kettle leaves the stovetop. Another wave and a plate of biscuits appear.

“Biscuit?”

“Yes, please.” I smile at him knowing that my decision to live in this building is a good one.

 

**

I find myself standing in the doorway to Bellatrix’s room with Dromeda’s words ringing in my head. ‘Take what you want dear.  I’m sure Bellatrix would rather have you hold onto her things then having me put them in boxes.’ Dromeda left with a departing sigh and I have been standing here for the past ten minutes debating whether or not I want to enter the room.

It’s been three weeks since I last visited Bellatrix in Azkaban. I haven’t heard from her, but I know she has means of communicating with me if she chooses to do so.

I have already sent my belongings to my flat. I shift my weight off my hip. It still bothers me after the stunning. I know it hasn’t had long to heal, but I have a feeling the pain of that day will be with me for years to come.

Taking a deep breath I walk over to the dresser and open the top drawer. I peer into it at the scarce contents. I pull out a photo of Teddy, Bellatrix, and I. We are sitting on the floor in the living room while Teddy happily plays with a toy. Bellatrix and I are deep in conversation, but she is wearing a breathtaking smile. I find myself softly smiling at the image before me and I slip the item into the pocket of my robe.

I noticed that pick picture did not contain moving figures. That must have been the day that Andromeda decided to start using Ted’s old camera. In the past few weeks she has become quite the photographer.

As I pull out the books the scent of them wafts over me. There are two on the Black family history, as well as one on the aftermath of Voldemort after the first war. There is one on transfiguration, and a few more on various other magical concepts. Bellatrix must have brought them with her the night we visited the Black Manor.

I open the next drawer to find a few cloaks and dresses that Bellatrix had borrowed from Andromeda. Picking up one robe that I am certain is Bellatrix’s I hold it to my face and imagine that faint traces of her scent still linger on it. Shrinking the robe down I place it in my pocket.

There is a knock on the front door. “Hermione, dear could you get that? I’m in the middle of feeding Teddy,” Andromeda says from the other room.

“Sure.”

I quickly descend the stairs as the knocking becomes more rapid. I open the door and am surprised by who I discover on the doorstep. “Hello, Narcissa.”

“Granger,” she responds haughtily.  “I need to speak with Andromeda.”

“Sure let me get her. Wait here.” I close the door in her face and race up the stairs. It isn’t a common occurrence that Narcissa Malfoy leaves the Malfoy Manor. Especially not to have a friendly visit with her estranged sister. So what is she doing here?

“Um, Dromeda?”

“Yes?” She responds while placing a finger against her lips. I notice that Teddy is fast asleep in her arms.

“You have a visitor.”

“Who is it dear?”

“Narcissa.”

I watch the color drain from Dromeda’s face. Her eyes become distant for a moment before she stands up and places Teddy in his crib.

“Do you know what she wants?”

“No.”

Dromeda nods and I follow her out of the room. I stop at the bottom of the staircase not wanting to intrude, but at the same time not wanting to leave Andromeda alone with Narcissa. This is the second Black sister reunion I have been present for and I wonder if it will go as well as the first one.

Dromeda opens the door with a blank expression on her face. I watch for a flicker of emotion when she first sees her sister, but find nothing.

“Narcissa.”

“Andromeda.” I can feel the silence pressing down on them from my position on the stairs. The world outside has just become eerily quiet as if it is waiting for the outcome of this meeting. “Are you going to invite me in?”

Andromeda doesn’t bother responding and steps aside so her sister can enter. In the brief moment that the two are standing side by side I see how different Narcissa’s appearance is compared to either of her sisters. There is a touch of silver in her blonde locks that spiral down her back. Her facial structure is fragile compared to the strong, elegant features of the other Black sisters. Yet she is still oddly attractive, and I am reminded of Bellatrix when our eyes lock for a moment.

“What do you need, Narcissa?” I am taken aback by Dromeda’s unusually harsh tone.

“Now, now Andromeda; is that the proper way to greet your sister?” I can see the disdain seeping from Narcissa as she looks around the room.

Dromeda crosses her arms over her chest and remains silent.

Narcissa suddenly whips around to face her sister. “Why didn’t you tell me about Bellatrix?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me. I know you were hiding her. She was found right outside your house!”

“Does your husband know where you are right now, _Cissy_?” Dromeda’s bitter emphasis on Narcissa’s nickname causes a chill to run through me.

“I can go where I please. Why didn’t you tell me Bellatrix was alive?” Narcissa is manically pacing the kitchen and sending accusing glares at Andromeda.

“Why are you so concerned all of a sudden?” Dromeda asks with an air of ignorance that allows me to finally see the family resemblance.

“I’ve always cared. Bellatrix is my sister!”

I move from my spot on the stairwell into the kitchen where my presence is known. “She didn’t want anyone to know, Narcissa.”

She spins to face me and I can detect the sorrow in her eyes. “You knew! You filthy Mudblood, you aren’t worthy of Bellatrix’s presence let alone knowing anything about her. I suggest you keep yourself out of things that have nothing to do with you.”

“Out!” Andromeda shouts and Teddy begins to cry.

“How dare you tre…”

“Get out of my house, Narcissa! You cannot come into my home and act like you run the place. Leave!” Andromeda’s whips out her wand and points at Narcissa’s chest. “Go.”

Despite the wand pointed at her chest Narcissa’s eyes keep darting to the staircase. “Is that Teddy? Can I see him?” Desperation flashes across her face followed quickly by sadness.

I can tell Andromeda saw it as she sighs and her wand wavers. She glances at me before returning her attention to her sister. “I’d rather Tonks be here to make that decision.”

“I can come back,” Narcissa offers quickly.

Dropping her wand and looking at the floor Andromeda says, “I’m expecting her to be back around five. You can stay if you’d like.”

“Thank you,” Narcissa says in barely more than a whisper.

 

**

“Hermione!” I glance over my shoulder to find Ron walking in my direction. I abruptly stop causing the ministry worker behind me to let out a stream of curses as they almost crash into me. When he reaches me I smile at him as he automatically grabs the stack of parchment out of my arms.

“You don’t have to carry those, Ron.”

He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“Thank you. So what’s up?”

“Kingsley is looking for you. I think he said he would be in his office if I saw you.”

“Okay thanks. I should probably go see what he wants. Do you want to get coffee sometime this week?”

“Sure. How ‘bout tomorrow.”

“Sounds great!” I know I shouldn’t but I lean in and place a kiss on Ron’s cheek.

Red flares against his pale skin. “Where should I put these?”

“On my desk.” I turn around and shout over my shoulder, “You’re the best,” as I head toward Shacklebolt office.

Reaching my destination I step into the outer office and his secretary confirms the minister is in.

I knock on the door and enter when I am granted permission. Warily I take a seat in front of Shacklebolt.

I don’t approve of the way he is torturing Bellatrix by bringing people she cares about to Azkaban. I don’t know what he is playing at, but every time I have to leave her I know I’m not the only one that is torn apart.

“How can I help you, Minister?”

A flick of his wand and the door is closed. “I heard from Tonks that Narcissa visited Andromeda last week.”

“She did.”

“Do you think she would be willing to escort Bellatrix back to her cell once or twice?”

“I don’t know if that’s wise, Kingsley. Honestly, I’m not sure where Narcissa stands in all of this.”

He nods. “I had a feeling that was the case. That’s why you’ll be accompanying her to Azkaban if she agrees.”

“Okay. When are you asking her?”

“Actually that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I was thinking you could ask her so people don’t get suspicious that I am visiting the Malfoys. Just in case Rita Skeeter is lurking somewhere. I’ve heard she’s looking for a new story.”

“I really can’t stand that woman.”

Shacklebolt chuckles. “I don’t think anyone can.”

“Will I be going alone or will someone be joining me?”

“If you want someone to go with you they can. Do you have a particular person in mind?”

I think for a moment. My automatic thought is Andromeda, but I haven’t been able to judge how she feels about Narcissa at this point. Ron’s temper is too quick, and Harry is still refusing to speak to me. As far as I know Tonks isn’t keen on her aunt at the moment.

“Possibly Minerva.” I say.

“I’ll contact both women and let you know what is happening by the end of the day.”

“All right. Have a nice day, Kingsley.” I leave his office no more enlightened about what he is doing.

  
  
**

As our surroundings come back into sight the Black Manor looms ahead of us. My hand is tightly linked with Minerva’s. I glance at her and discover she is watching me. Smiling softly I wonder what she is thinking in this moment.

“So I was thinking,” I say quietly not wanting to startle her, “That if you have a free night sometime in the next couple of weeks you could come over to my flat for dinner.”

“That sounds nice,” She replies. Her tone is distant and I find it odd. I don’t think I’ve ever talked to Minerva and not had her full attention.

I squeeze her hand and it is as if she is finally seeing me. “Everything okay?”

“Yes, of course. Sorry dear. Dinner sounds lovely.” She smiles at me, but there is still an emotion lingering in her eyes that I can’t quite grasp.

“Do you know if Narcissa comes here often?” I ask as I pull Minerva forward. I reach for the gate and feel her tug on my hand.

“Don’t touch the gate there are blood wards. Did Bellatrix not tell you last time you were here?”

I grab the gate and open it. “She did,” I say with a small smile.

“I see. No, I don’t know if Narcissa is here often. It does seem rather odd that she requested we meet her here, does it not?”

“That’s what I was thinking.” Minerva’s hand is warm against mine and it is reluctantly that I let it go. However, I know that Minerva would hex me if she was caught being anything other than professional.

The front doors swing open before we even reach the steps. Narcissa is standing with her arms crossed; behind her the grand entrance hall is illuminated by candles. It gives the dark building an even eerier feel.

“Headmistress. Miss Granger,” She nods respectfully at us. “I was wondering whose magic I detected in the wards.” Her piercing eyes fall on me and I force myself to stay where I am though my brain is screaming to take a large step back and run. It is clear that Narcissa learned many of her manors from Bellatrix, and though she appears weak she can be intimidating if she tries.

“May we come in?” Minerva asks politely, yet, there is a hint of warning in her tone.

Narcissa flinches when she hears it. Not visibly, but I detect it. I try not to smile at the power Minerva still holds over Narcissa.

“Please follow me.” My eyes roam the semi-familiar walls. My heart skips a beat with each portrait of Bellatrix I see. The younger version of herself seems so much more at ease, however, when she turns to look at us I can see the haunted expression in her eyes.

I wonder what Bellatrix is thinking now. Is she scared? Has she gone numb? I wish she would contact me like she did Minerva. Though my every thought is no longer plagued by her I find my mind wandering to her every night before I fall asleep. If I close my eyes I can almost feel her protective arms around my waist and warm breath against my neck. If I think long enough I can feel the ghost of her lips brushing against mine. This is followed by a familiar ache in my heart, such as, the one I am experiencing now.

We follow Narcissa into the drawing room. The my eyes dart to the chandelier in the room and around the open space; it feels unused, and reminds me of the night at the Malfoy Manor.

“You wished to speak to me?” Narcissa says as she motions for us to sit in chairs across from her.

“Uh, yes,” I say. I feel ungraceful in her presence and unworthy of her time, due to the air of superiority that surrounds her. “Recently the Minister has been allowing Bellatrix to leave her cell…”

“Why?” Narcissa snaps.

“I’m not sure,” I reply weakly. I can feel the weight of Narcissa’s anger pressing down around us.

She turns her attention to Minerva with questions in her eyes. Her anger quickly dissipates and is replaced with respect as she looks upon the Headmistress.

“Unfortunately, no one knows what the Minister is doing, Narcissa.”

“How long has it been going on for?”

“At this point about two months.”

 Narcissa nods and stares down at her clasped hands. When her eyes meet mine again they are less hostile, and I am reminded of the woman I saw at Andromeda’s.  Narcissa has the same enigmatic quality as Bellatrix. At points when I look at Narcissa I see a lost puppy, but other times a venomous serpent. I wonder what she is thinking, and what she is clearly struggling with. Out of all the Black sisters Narcissa always appeared to me to be the one most likely to waver in her opinions of life.

 I find myself wanting to help her with her internal struggle.

“The mister is allowing people from Bellatrix’s life to take her back to her cell. I’ve been, Andromeda, Tonks, Professor McGonagall, and even Molly Weasley have been to Azkaban to see Bellatrix.”

“When was the last time you saw her?”

“A month and a half ago.” The amount of time feels like a lifetime as it leaves my lips.

“And you Headmistress?”

“A week ago.”

“Would you like to bring Bellatrix back to her cell?” I ask gently.

 “Yes.” She says automatically. She is not looking at me and I try to catch her eye without avail.

“The next time he asks me to go you will join me. Is that all right with you?”

“Yes,” Her voice is weak and she nods her head more than once.

“This has to remain confidential, Narcissa. No one can know.”

“I understand.” Her quiet demeanor is making me nervous. It is more frightening than when she is aggressive because, like when I am with Bellatrix, the silence screams of her pain.

“Minerva,” I turn to the women at my side. “I hate to ask, but may I have a moment alone with Narcissa?”

“Of course. I believe I saw Mr. Malfoy lingering on the stairs when I came in. I’ll go harass him while I wait.” I roll my eyes at her and she smiles back at me.

Once Narcissa and I are alone I allow the silence to overwhelm me: listening intently for what the quiet will reveal.

“Is there something more, Miss Granger?”

“Andromeda has quite a kind heart. Bellatrix is a little more confusing. You see, I know what a loving person she is, but she is so secretive. A trick I have learned with Bellatrix is often her silence is the clue to what she is trying to say. I, however, am not sure where you stand in all of this.”

“I’m not positive I know what you mean.”

“It’s time to pick a side. I know it and you know it. I’ve seen Bellatrix declare war against her previous choices, and I know it’s been excruciating for her. I can see you doing the same thing. So if you  need to talk or anything I’m here.” I punctuate my long-winded statement with a shrug.

She nods before her eyes dart away from mine.  The silence becomes heavy between us.

“Well I have to get back to the Ministry,” I say. It’s an easy excuse. In truth Minerva and I are going to lunch.

We leave the drawing room to discover Minerva talking to Draco. I didn’t catch what she said, but he is rather read in the cheeks.

“Minerva, leave Draco alone,” I say light heartedly. If I had a choice I would let her embarrass him forever.

The four of us exchange polite goodbyes before Minerva and I leave. I glance back once more at Narcissa before I close the front door and discover she is examining me with curiosity written across her face.

  
  
**

I can feel the tension radiating off of Narcissa even though I can’t see her.  As usual we have been ordered to remain under the disillusionment charm until it is time to return Bellatrix to her cell. I know that Jones is here somewhere as well. He grumbled about going to sit somewhere and wait since he can’t leave until Narcissa and I do our part of the job.

I lean up against the front wall of Azkaban as I observe Bellatrix. She is sitting on the ground with her back resting against a barren tree. She has pulled her knees into herself and buried her face in her arms.  The wind whips Bellatrix’s hair around as she lifts her head. She gazes out at the threatening sea. My chest begins to ache at the anguish written on her face.

Reaching out I tug on Narcissa’s sleeve.  She moves closer to me and I tap her on the shoulder with my wand before removing the charm shielding me as well.

Quietly we approach Bellatrix. She is so lost in her own thoughts she does not turn to look at us when we reach her. Crouching down in front of her I take her hands in mine. Her eyes find mine and I smile softly at her.

“Hey Bella.”

“Hermione,” she whispers quietly. The distance in her voice scares me.

My eyes flutter shut as she briefly rests her hand against my cheek. When she removes it a ghost of a touch remains.

I help her up and glance over my shoulder at Narcissa. For the first time Bellatrix takes her eyes off of me and looks at her sister.

“Cissy,” she says weakly.

“Hello Bellatrix.”  Narcissa says quietly before looking away from her sister.

“First Bella and Dromeda, and then Narcissa and Dromeda; why am I always a witness to these awkward Black sister reunions?” Narcissa smirks. Bellatrix has her head tilted in thought, but when I meet her eyes she starts laughing.

Her laughter is contagious and soon enough even Narcissa is chuckling light-heartedly.

“Well aren’t you lucky,” Bellatrix says after calming down.

“I am,” I reply quietly and squeeze Bellatrix’s hand. “It’s getting cold out here.”

Narcissa, Bellatrix and I walk back to Bellatrix’s cell in silence.

When we reach it Narcissa turns to me. “Can I have a moment…”

“Of course.” I say without letting her finish.

I watch the two enter the cell and the bars close behind them. I sit with my back propped against the wall. I hear the pleas for freedom, the manic laughter, and the terrified screams.  Though I can’t see the dementors at the moment I can detect their presence tugging at me. I can feel their numbing chill seeping into my bones and the disturbing memories pressing against the edge of my consciousness.

Taking a deep breath I attempt to fight the affects, but the more I try the further I feel myself slipping into the darkness. I close my eyes as memories flicker past my eyes before stopping on my parents faces: I see their blank eyes and all traces of my presence gone from my home.

A tear slides down my cheek. I remind myself of Minerva’s promise, however, no matter how hard I try the images become stronger.  My parents lifeless bodies take up residence in my mind.

I register that I am crying, but as the bodies of the ones I love float into my mind each one bloodied and motionless my despair grows.

There is a flash of light and I am drawn back to the present. Opening my eyes I watch the patronus force back the dementors. Narcissa crouches down beside me and rests her hand on my shoulder. “The images are terrifyingly real aren’t they, Miss Granger?”

I nod as I wipe my tears away. “Thank you.” I smile feebly.

“Bellatrix would like to see you.” She stands and straightens her cloak. Any hint of concern that was there a moment ago is gone.

“Okay. You can go find Jones and leave if you want to. What Kingsley doesn’t know won’t kill him.”

“I think I’ll stay.”

“Will you be all right?” I motion toward the emptiness where the dementor’s were. She nods.

Stepping into Bellatrix’s cell I don’t bother to close the bars behind me. As I cast a silencing spell  and my eyes land on Bellatrix. She is sitting on the makeshift stone bed curled into herself. I notice she is crying and rush over to her.

I pull her into me and stroke her hair. Her arms wrap around my waist and I tighten my grip on her. I kiss her hair and promise her everything will be okay.

“Please help me, Hermione. Please. I can’t. Please.” Tears flow freely down my cheeks at her words, which, quickly turn into a begging mantra.

“I will. I’m going to get you out of here, Bella. I promise.”

She gazes up at me with distant eyes and I lean in and kiss her softly on the lips.

Her hands are on my chest and she pushes me hard. I land on the ground and gaze up at her. “Bella, what the…”

“Get out!”

I get up and move toward her but she gets up and begins pacing. “Bellatrix, calm down. I’ll figure this out. I’ll…”

“You need to go.”

“I don’t understand.”

“GET OUT!”

“Okay.” I respond quietly. “I’ll see you soon.”

“No. Don’t come back.”

“Bellatrix, please don’t do this.” I grab her wrist and try to pull her into me, but she struggles against me.

“You need to leave. You need to forget about me.”

“I can’t do that.” Bellatrix pushes me hard and I stumble backward into the wall.

“Go,” Her voice is void of all emotions.

I nod my head and retreat from the cell.

I peer through the bars before we leave: the detachment in Bellatrix’s eyes is extinguishing the light.

  
**  
“You’re different my dear. You know that right?”

Subtlety shaking my head I rub my eyes and look up from my book. “I’m sorry, what did you say Professor?”

I focus my attention on Dumbledore’s portrait. The world around me is spinning slightly due to lack of sleep. I have been reading as many trial records as I can since my last visit to Azkaban.

“You are different.”

“Um, thanks, I guess.”

He chuckles. “Minerva has let very few people in Hermione. As far as I know it has been you, Bellatrix, and Harry. Out of the three of you though you stand out. You’re special.”

“I’m not sure I understand what you are trying to tell me.”

“Life is very curious my dear. Remember that.” I nod my head and he smiles at me before vanishing from his portrait.

I stretch before standing. My legs feel like jello as I cross the room and open the door that leads to Minerva’s office.

I smile as I stand in the doorway and watch Minerva grade papers. I observe the emotions flash across her face: concentration, agreement, disagreement, and disapproval.  I’ve heard people say she is stoic, but if they looked close enough they would see that she is actually one of the most expressive people they will ever meet. The trick is pay attention, because all of her facial cues are subtle. However, when she wants to be she can be very open.

I walk over to her and rest my hand on her shoulder. She glances up at me and the edges of her lips curl, just barely, before she returns her attention to the paper.

“How are the papers?”

“Mediocre.” I can hear the disappointment in her tone.

“Do you want help grading?”

“How much do you remember about the theory of vanishing spells and their origin?”

“Enough hopefully. Do you have a sample paper or something so I know what you’re looking for?”

Minerva opens her desk drawer and hands me a parchment. I unroll it turn my head to stare at her in disbelief.

“What?” She asks without looking up from the paper she is reading.

“You’re using my paper as an example.”

“I have to have an example, love, incase students ask. Why do you seem so surprised?”

“No reason.” I say before grabbing half of the stack of papers.

I conjure a chair next to Minerva and begin to read the essays. I smile when I discover the same tricks that Harry and Ron would use to make their paper the correct length. I always wondered how they thought they could get away with that.

Little by little the graded stack becomes larger and finally an hour and a half later I am done. I blink a few times to relieve my eyes from the strain and look over at Minerva.

“Thank you for helping dear.“

“You’re welcome. Where would you like me to put them?”

“Leave them there and I will record the grades later.”

“Are you any closer to finding a new Transfiguration professor?”

“I’m hesitant to hire someone so far into the year.”

“I could see what I can do and fill in every once in a while. Maybe next year it could be something more permanent.”

“Though I have great faith in your capabilities, Hermione, I’m going have to decline your offer. I appreciate it, but you have so much you have yet to do, and being a Hogwarts professor tends to be a permanent decision.”

“I understand.”

“If you really want the job come to me in a few years and we will discuss it again.”

I nod. “I’ve actually wanted to talk to you about something. I want to take the N.E.W.T.S., but obviously I don’t have time to come back for my seventh year, and probably would not be able to make it to classes. Is there anything I can do?”

“Perhaps a tutor. I will need to talk to the Board of Governors. Normally I would insist that I be the one to tutor you, however considering the circumstances, I believe I am overbooked. Let me see what I can do and I will get back to you. My only concern is that you are taking on too many responsibilities. Are you certain this is something you want to do?”

“Positive. I really appreciate it, Minerva.” I smile at her and when she smiles back at me I can feel the tension release from my shoulders.

“I’m hosting, I guess you could say, a dinner at my place next Friday with Dromeda, Tonks, and possibly Ron. I would love it if you could join us.”

“I’d be delighted.”

I watch Minerva ask Kreacher to get us tea before a comfortable silence falls over us. I let my eyes wander around her office. Out of the corner of my eye I notice Minerva closing her eyes as she leans back in her chair.

I squeeze her hand and she looks at me. “I can leave if you want to sleep. I would hate to overstay my welcome.”

“Please stay.” Is all she says before closing her eyes again. I bite my lip unable to decide if I should persuade her to go rest or if I should stay as she requested.

I let my eyes wander as I think and an object on Minerva’s desk makes my heart flutter. “Could I use the mirror?”

Minerva nods and hands it to me. I hold it so she can see into it as well. “Bellatrix.” I say quietly.

The image of her cell comes into focus, but we cannot see Bellatrix. “Bella?” I call out. There is a shuffling, but she does not appear in our view.

“Bellatrix?” Minerva calls.

The mirror is picked up and two black emotionless eyes appear before everything goes black.

My eyes dart to Minerva’s. I can feel the panic quickly building in my chest. Her emerald eyes are worried but her demeanor is cool. I stand up knocking my chair over .

I cast out a patronus with a message to Shacklebolt to meet me in his office. I grab floo powder out of the jar on the fireplace mantle.

“Hermione wait.”

I look over my shoulder at Minerva.

“Where are you going?” She asks.

“To see the Minister.”

“And say what?”

“I don’t know.”

“Stay. I don’t want you to end up doing something you’ll regret.”

“I can’t just stand around and do nothing, Minerva!” I say angrily as I throw the powder into the fireplace and step into the green flame. “Ministry of Magic!”

 

xx

Barging into Shacklebolt’s office I can feel my fear pulsing through my veins. The panic that settled in my chest is making it hard to breathe. I can’t erase the image of those empty eyes staring back at us. Bellatrix can’t be in Azkaban any longer. It’s going to kill her from the inside out.

“Hermione, what’s wrong?”

“Take Bellatrix out of Azkaban.”

“I can’t just set her free.”

I reach his desk and slam my hands down on it. Getting in his face I growl out, “Find a way to get her out of there or I will.”

“Is that a threat?”

I begin to pace the room. My hands are shaking and I can’t hold onto a single thought. “There must be a way to get her out,” I say more to myself than Shacklebolt. “She can’t be in there.” I force myself to focus on Shacklebolt. “There has to be a way to get her out of there, please Kingsley. She can’t be in there anymore.”

I struggle to focus as silence descends upon us. “There is,” He finally says.

“What? What is it? What do I have to do?” I can feel the tears threatening to fall.

“Get Bellatrix to ask for her trial.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Story:** When Everything Changed

 **Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

 **Rated:** M

 **Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________**

**Bellatrix’s POV**

_Inside I was screaming, begging, sobbing: dying, as the Dark Lord’s wand aimed at the bundle of blankets on the rock. My body threatened to crumble; agony had caused it to become a pinpricking inferno. The guilt, terror, and imminent mourning swallowed me, yet on the outside I battled back my stinging tears, and the animalistic cry that was shredding its way up my throat to remain stoic._

_“Bellatrix.”_

_“Yes, My Lord?”_

_“I’ve changed my mind.” I wished I could be flooded with relief, but my stomach flopped on the grown in dread. “I want you to kill the child.”_

_The excruciating anguish surging through my veins and greedily reached for my heart; caused my hand to shake as I raised my wand at the bundle. My eyes darted to Rodulphus’ pale face in the back of the group of Death Eaters. He refused to meet my eyes. “Are you sure you don’t wish to do it, My Lord?” I asked quietly hoping that my voice had remained steady._

_“If you do not do this Bellatrix, I will assume you’re no longer loyal to me.” There was a malicious glint in his eyes._

_A child’s wail sounded in the heavy night. I felt myself bleeding out. I was unable to stop the dark blood that gushed from my veins. The thick substance filled my lungs slowly suffocating me. It gurgled out of my throat, and soaked the ground. When I glanced down, certain that this was the end, there was nothing there._

_I looked at my master, into his cruel, unyielding eyes, at Rodulphus who had shrunken further into the shadows, and finally at the innocent child crying for its mother._

_Inhaling deeply I attempted to bring air into my lungs. They were aching and pleading for it, but no relief was provided._

_“Avada Kedavra,” I whispered. The crying was extinguished as the cold night settled over us._

_The Dark Lord approached me his horrifying laughter slashed through the smothering night air. “You have served me well my pet. Donahue, dispose of the body.”_

_“NO! AVADA KEDAVRA!” A green light flashed and I heard the fall of a body._

_I spun toward the crowd of Death Eaters, “CRUCIO!” Screaming filled the air. Terrible, agonizing screams: from voices I did not recognize and faces I could not see. Changing the course of my spell Rodulphus’ tormented shrieks saturated the bitter night. The darkness rang with the cracks of aparation. Still there was that malevolent laughter. Then another noise filled the air; a high-pitched and hallow cackle._

_“Enough,” The Dark Lord whispered in my ear. His repulsive hand brushed over my shoulder and my magic waned._

_His laughter impaled my eardrums. When I spun face the Dark Lord he had disappeared. I stumbled over to the child and picked it up. Its head flopped back where the neck was unsupported. Its dead weight pressed down on my body. The world spun. The tears broke loose and I fled holding the baby tight to my chest._

_I ran until my legs gave way and I fell to the ground clutching the child. I opened my mouth but no noise came out. Silently I screamed until my throat was raw and its tissues hung in mangled pieces within me. My tears violently shook my body until it shattered. Lifelessly I lay there as fire raged beneath my skin and bile clung to the moist grass near my head._

_Rocking back and forth with the baby girl in my arms I whispered, “I’m so sorry. I love you. Mommy loves you.”_

  
  
**  
Opening my eyes I turn to my side and dry heave until stomach acid blisters my throat as it exits my body.  The cold air bites at my clammy, sweat covered skin. I raise a shaky hand to my face and attempt to wipe away my tears, but they reproduce in scalding tracks on my skin.

Holding myself I cry. I dig my nails into the dirt beneath me and grate them against my chest. My lungs croak for air as they sizzle in the inferno of my regret. I scream. It ruptures from my chest and slices my throat before reverberating through the cell. My vocal cords strain against the weight of my cries until no sound escapes me. Yet, I mutely release a visceral roar of agony for deaf ears.

The lacerations on my chest and arms puff beneath my nails as I rake further beneath my flesh. Skin and blood cake under them as I continue to search for an unknown freedom. Stray tears still trickle down imprinted trails on my cheeks.

My eyes flutter with exhaustion and my arms fall limply to my sides. As sleep drags me into its embrace I can sense the weight of my lifeless daughter in my arms.

  
**  
My legs dangle over the edge of the cliff. If the wind blew just right I could fall. I could lean further forward or slide off the edge. No one would know the difference, and then it would be over. I would be free of my actions. I would no longer hear the cries of children and screams of my victims in the night.

The wind howls around me and I can hear the wailing of a baby in the distance.

A tear trickles down my cheek and I brush it away. There are more coming, yet, I know I will not survive more tears so I force then away.

The baby’s scream pierces my brain as it rushes over the ocean.

Leaning closer to the edge I watch the waves crash against jagged rocks below. I ignore the footsteps I detect behind me.

Someone sits beside me. It doesn’t take me long to identify who it is as the scent of clean linens, parchment, and vanilla washes over me.

“It’s a long fall, isn’t it?” Hermione asks.

“It’s not that far.” I reply. “I asked you not to come back.”

“I need to talk to you,” I can hear the hurt in her voice.

“So talk.”

“Bellatrix, please don’t be like this.”

“Like what?”

“Not here. Others can hear us.”

“Like what, Hermione?”

“Stop pushing me away when I’m trying to help you.”

“I can’t be helped.”

“That’s not true.”

“Can I go back to my cell now?” I ask standing. I don’t want to hear the hope in her voice. I don’t want to hear the small inflection in her tone that sounds like love and grows stronger every time I see her. I don’t want her to be here, because I want her to realize that there is better than me out there.

I don’t want her here, because I can’t stand seeing what I know I can’t have.

Hermione stands and offers me a hand which I ignore.

We walk back to my cell in silence.

“I brought you some food.” Hermione says as she pulls a bag out from beneath her robes.

“Thanks,” I say quietly and take the bag. I turn my back to her and move over to the window. I feel her cleaning spell wash over me and the room.

“What do you need to talk to me about?” I ask as I shake my head trying to rid my mind of the crying. The wind blows: within it I can hear the fatal words and then the sound stops.

“I think you should ask for a trial.”

“No,” I look over my shoulder at Hermione, “I need to be here.”

“You can’t stay here.”

I return my focus to the dark sea outside of my window. I can hear Hermione move behind me. Her arms wrap around me as she presses herself into my back. Her head rests on my shoulder. Despite my better judgment I lean into her.

“Please Bella.”

“No.” I kiss her temple and pull away. “I know where I belong.”

“I don’t think you do.” Hermione kisses my cheek and leaves.

  
  
**  
 _Staring down at my quivering hands I could see they were skinned in the moonlight. My flesh adhered to the shovel I had tossed aside._

_My body wracked with dry sobs. My tears soaked into the ground miles away. I glanced  at my childhood home before picking up the lifeless bundle at my feet.  Pushing aside the blankets reveled a tuff of jet black hair.  Tears still clung to my daughter’s skin, yet, when I kissed her my cold lips were met by even colder skin._

_I bent over my makeshift grave and placed my daughter inside with trembling arms. A single tear forced its way from my body. It was all that I had left._

_“It’s better this way,” I whispered to her. The unwanted truth lingered above my head._

_Raising my wand I encased her in an invisible blanket. My heart dully thumped in my chest. It was too weak to release more emotion. My mind was eerily quiet as thoughts sluggishly processed through it. My body had worked too hard, cried to loudly, and felt too much in too little time._

_My lungs felt as if they were collapsing as they struggled to follow through with the simple process of breathing. My limbs forgot how to work and I feared they would crumble with the slightest breeze. My bones were brittle; too fragile to work. I knew at any moment they would shatter: leaving me to die._

_Picking up the shovel I returned the earth to its original state on top of my child. I cast barriers to ensure her grave would not be disturbed. Out of the recesses of my mind came the charm for flowers that would never die, and they sprouted over the grave as I cast it._

_“Goodbye,” The word ripped itself from my lips and wrapped around my throat tightly before disappearing into the night._

_Forcing my lungs open I took a deep breath before turning around. As I walked across the lawn I glanced up at the full moon before my world turned black. Numbness settled over my body, and I released a high-pitched cackle._

  
**  
Hermione smiles at me as she calls to me. However, every time I approach her she darts between the trees. I can hear her joy filled laughter.  I call out to her, but she doesn’t stop. Her voice becomes distant. I begin to run after her, and am brought into a clearing.

I stop and watch as Hermione weaves through the familiar rocks. She perches on the rock in the center and holds out her hand to me. I take a step forward and find myself raising a shaking arm. Realizing my wand is in it I try to scream. I know what is coming; I can feel it, but I can’t stop it. A manic laughter is wrenched from my lips. “Avada Kedavra!”

I watch as Hermione’s body is illuminated in green light. She goes limp and falls to the ground before the earth swallows her. I scream, but no one is there to listen.

 

xx  
Jolting up I struggle to take deep breaths. My focus darts around the room as I reassure myself it was only a dream.

The cell door opens and Ron Weasley steps into the space. I frown in confusion. “Mr. Weasley, what are you doing here?” I croakily ask.

“I’m here to take you out,” He says kindly.

“What happened to the other guy?”

“He called in sick. Are you okay?” He asks. I can hear the genuine concern in his voice.

I nod and raise a shaky hand to my head to wipe away cold sweat.

Ron approaches me and crouches by my side. Cautiously I watch him raise a hand before he gently brushes his robe against my face removing the sweat and last traces of dream from my face.

“Why are you doing this?”

He shrugs, “This place can’t be easy; even if you’ve been here before.”  I hear the silent revelation in his voice: Hermione.

“Thank you, Mr. Weasley.” I can’t help but smirk as his cheeks turn the color of tomatoes.

“No problem. Call me Ron.”

He holds out his hand to help me get up and I accept the gesture. He turns and I follow him out of my cell.

“How’s everyone?” I ask tentatively as we walk through Azkaban.

“Good. At least from what I’ve seen.”

“And Hermione?” I ask hoping he will know something.

“I’ve seen her better, but considering everything, I’d say she’s handling it pretty well.”

I nod and focus on my feet.

We stop at the doors and when Ron doesn’t move to open them I look up at him.

 “Listen, I don’t know what is going on between you and ‘Mione, but I want you to know I don’t have a problem with it.” He says.

“I appreciate that, but nothing’s happening between us.”

He sends me a skeptical look before he opens the doors while telling me to have a nice day and walks off.

Sighing I begin to wander around the prison grounds. I walk along the edge staring down at the ocean. I could easily slip, or pretend to slip. The knowledge of being so close to death causes adrenaline to coarse through my veins

Deciding I should sit I prop my back against the prison and stare out at the sea.

 

I can still here a faint cry in the back of my mind. It refuses to let me go, to let me rest, and I don’t know how much longer I can fight it.

My mind drifts to Hermione. I can see her smiling face before she was struck by the killing curse. I shake my head to rid myself at the image, but I know it won’t go away. Eventually I will hurt her.

I close my eye and breathe deeply. Though I am still plagued by my mind; when I am outside the walls of Azkaban the weight of my thoughts decrease enough to allow me to feel marginally peaceful.

I listen to the sound of the waves and the birds in the distance.

I am not sure how long it has been when I open my eyes again, but I turn my head to the side and find Andromeda walking toward me.

“Wait,” I call out. “I’ll come to you. It’s not safe.”

She nods .

As I walk across the crumbling cliff ledge I feel rocks begin to shift beneath my feet. The ledge gives way and my stomach is forced into my chest. I hear a scream and a hand wraps around my wrist.

I look up into Dromeda’s terrified eyes, and I realize that I am oddly calm. I grab onto ledge with my other hand and attempt to swing myself up but the rocks turn to dust beneath my touch.

“Let go,” I say looking at Dromeda.

“No.”

“It’s not safe.”

“I’m not leaving you.”

I can hear frantic footsteps and feel magic wrap around me and pull me up onto safety. When I hit the ground I find myself looking up at Ron.

“Thanks,” I say quietly.

Andromeda is soon by my side fussing over my well-being and scolding me. “I thought you were going to die,” she says.

Despite my better judgment I feel my resolve cracking and a giggle escapes my lips. It soon turns into a laugh so forceful that my sides hurt. Dromeda hits me and exclaims it wasn’t funny, but that doesn’t stop me.

 I laugh until there is no sound left in my body, because for a moment I felt free.

Andromeda drags me up off the ground and leads me back to my cell. The whole time she clings to my side and I begin to feel guilty for not trying to stop myself from falling. When we get enter my cell she sits next to me and links our arms.

“Have you considered asking for a trial?”

“Have you been talking to Hermione?” I ask in disbelief.

“No,” She says frowning. “I just have a feeling it might go better than you think.”

“I’m not asking for one, Dromeda.”

“You need to.”

“No. I’m sorry, but like I’ve told Hermione, I can’t.”

She nods, “It was nice to see you, Bella.” She stands and kisses me on the cheek before leaving.

 

**  
I smile faintly at the woman approaching me. “Hello, Minerva.”

“Hello dear.” She stands over me and extends a hand to help me up. I take it.

Her presence offers me a sudden respite. It feels as if in this moment that I know I will be okay, because Minerva’s here. She radiates a protective manner. She will force the memories go away, and help me allow me to forgive myself.

Even if it’s only for a moment.

She takes me back to my cell. Along the way she talks about the history of Azkaban and points out different architectural features. I listen as she explains the dilemmas that occurred when they were trying to build the structure, and how it is mainly supported by magic, because the island could not hold the structure’s weight.  I find her choice of topic odd, yet relieving. It allows me to see the building for what it is and not the nightmares it causes.

“Are you here to try to talk me into asking for a trial?” I ask as I sit down on the makeshift stone bed in my cell.

“No. I’m simply here to escort you back to your cell.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I understand why you won’t ask, Bellatrix. I’m not going to try to change your mind. I know you are out of harm’s way, at least from others, while you are here.”

I nod at her response. I’m not certain how to reply.

“That doesn’t mean I’m not worried about what this place is doing to you. I would prefer you ask for a trial. The worst that could happen is you end up back here, and after that you could always try again.”

“Not without a reason.”

“There’s always a reason dear. I’m afraid I must go. Lately, I find myself neglecting certain duties I have at Hogwarts in favor of spending time with friends and family.”

“Bye,” I say quietly.

 Nervously I reach out and squeeze her hand. She squeezes back.

 

**  
 _I stood facing Professor McGonagall amongst the destruction. Our wands were aim at each other’s chest. Yet, all I felt was loathing and hatred. I was not hesitant to engage in battle with her. I didn’t care about the stories I had heard of her power from other death eaters. This was my time to prove myself._

_I cast the first spell that she easily parried with barely a flick of her wand. Spells began to fly rapidly between us. The ground  crackled beneath us before igniting. Flames rose between us creating an unnoticed barrier. My arms became heavy, but I continued to match her spell by spell._

_My fatigue caused my shield charm to waver and her spell singed my cheek. We stopped. I stared at her for a moment and saw the conflict in her eyes. Taking my chance I turned on the spot and magic embraced me pulling me away from Professor McGonagall to safety._

**  
I have decided, while there is light, to distract myself with the book Hermione left last time she was here. I am entranced by the muggle ways of solving  murders in this novel. They use such odd devices, and it appears that they make everything ten times more complicated than it needs to be.

The cell door clinks open and I glance up as Hermione steps inside before returning to the book I’m reading.

“Muggles go through a lot of unnecessary trouble to solve crime.” I state.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it,” I can hear the amusement in her tone.  I memorize the page number I’m on quickly before setting down the book. “I wasn’t sure if you would. I brought a few more books, you might have heard of them, but I’m not sure what books you’ve read so I’m sticking to muggle ones.”

“Wise choice. What are they?”

“ _Alice in Wonderland, Peter Pan,_ and _The Complete Adventures of Sherlock Holmes_.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.” She sits next to me and pulls the novels out of her cloak.

“Have you thought about what I said?”

“You mean what you, Andromeda, Tonks, Narcissa, and Minerva have talked to be about?” I ask nonchalantly.

“Um, yes.”

“I can’t, Hermione.”

“Okay.”

She pulls another book out of her cloak. I can feel the demons and memories pressing on the edges of my mind. I need to focus on something quickly.

I pick it the book I set aside and begin to read. I shift as Hermione leans up against me and rests her head on my shoulder to make it more comfortable for her.

I read for a while, however I am not as entranced as before,  the smell of vanilla teases my nose, the heat of Hermione’s body against mine makes me tired. It’s been so long since I’ve felt warm.

“What are you reading?” I ask.

It takes her a moment to pull herself out of the story. I find myself smiling softly. “It’s called _Their Eyes Were Watching God_. It’s about an African American woman who sets out to find herself, because she does not want to fall into the social norms of women in the 1920s or 30s. It is set in three parts based on her time spent with three different men.”

“You’ve read it before?”

“Quite a few times actually. I stumbled upon it randomly in a small bookshop one summer.”

Now that she mentions it I can see how worn the pages are.

“You asked me to help you.” Hermione states.

“I shouldn’t have.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do, Bellatrix, help you. Please ask for a trial.”

“I’ve told you I can’t, and if you insist on coming here we will not be discussing this every time you’re here. I will personally ask Shacklebolt that you no longer come to visit me if that is the case.”

Against my own will my hand wraps around Hermione’s wrist. Black suddenly envelops my vision and I feel my face splitting from a smile. My body has gone numb. I seek peace in the darkness and almost manage to lose myself when I hear a wince of pain in the distance.

Instantly my surroundings reappear and I drop Hermione’s wrist as her skin sears mine.

“He doesn’t know I’m here,” She whispers. Hermione tilts her head and I can hear taking uneven breaths.

I can see the angry red mark my hand left. From the sadness I saw in her eyes I know it’s not as red as the mark my words left on her heart.

“I’m sorry.” I attempt to put all of my emotions into the apology.

She looks up at me with tears in her eyes and nods her head in acknowledgement. “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.” Leaning forward my lips brush against hers. With each touch our kisses become more desperate. I want Hermione to know why she can’t be here. I want her to feel and see everything I’ve been forced to remember through my kiss. I want to be able to love her properly. I want to let her go.

Hermione levitates the books to the ground and transfigures a mattress beneath us. I can feel her tugging on my shirt. I shift so I am hovering above her and deepen our kiss. Hermione pulls me down on top of her.  Yet, we are still not close enough. Her hands caress my face and tangle in my hair. Propping myself up on one hand I gently remove one of her hands from my hair and lace our fingers together.

Breaking the kiss I rest my forehead against Hermione’s as I attempt to control my uneven breathing. I pepper her forehead and cheeks with light kisses.

 “I’m so sorry, Hermione,” I whisper in her ear before continuing to place kisses on her face occasionally stopping to kiss her lips.

Falling to my side I pull her into me. She buries her face in my shoulder and her arm slides around my waist.

“I’m confused,” I hear her mumble.

“I know.”

“Do you want to be with me?”

“It’s not that simple,” I reply feebly.

“We can make it work.”

“I’m in Azkaban.”

“Really? I didn’t notice,” Hermione states sarcastically. “Give me a better reason.”

“I can’t”

“Why not?”

“If you knew who I was, Hermione, you wouldn’t want to come close to me. There are so many things you don’t know about me. How can you be with someone you don’t know?”

“Whatever it is it won’t change anything. I know who you are now and that’s all that matters,” I can hear the pleading in her tone.

“You would change your mind if you found out what I’ve done.”

“So tell me, Bellatrix! Let me in.”

“I can’t.” The pain in my tone is evident and for once I am glad it is there. Hermione needs to know that this is just as hard for me.

“Then what are we doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“It always comes back to this. We decide we can’t go further and then sooner or later we cave and end up kissing. We either have to do something about this or put it behind us. I can’t do this anymore, Bella! Every time you kiss me my world stops moving. I’ve never felt like this.”

She doesn’t say it but I can hear the words she omitted. I can see them in her eyes screaming to me. It’s killing her that we’re not together.

It’s killing me too.

“We’re friends. That’s all we can be,” I say shrugging.

“Okay.”

Hermione tries to pull away from me but I tighten my grip on her.

“What are you doing?” She asks. I can hear frustration lacing the edges of her words.

“Stay a little longer, please.”

“Because this is what friends do?” Her frustration has morphed to anger.

She looks up at me and I can see sorrow in her eyes. Before she can register what I am doing I kiss her. I kiss her with everything I feel for her in a feeble attempt to take away her pain.

Hermione pulls away from me. “Give me a reason to stay.”

I stare at her for a moment and see the impatience forming on her face. I bite my lip as nerves threaten to destroy my stomach. “Because,” I can barely hear my own voice. “I need you.”

Immediately she snuggles back into me and her arm tightens around me. I shift so I am as close to Hermione as possible. I close my eyes and for the first time my head is empty. There are no threatening memories or haunting dreams.

I smile as I feel Hermione’s lips brush against my neck. For now I am safe.


	16. Chapter 16

**Story:** When Everything Changed

 **Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

 **Rated:** M

 **Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________**

**Hermione’s POV**

I watch the darkness shift in Bellatrix’s eyes as I sit next to her. It dances in depths of her chocolate pools, and plays with the doubts crashing in my stomach.  The silence that has suddenly consumed us scares me less than the vacant expression on her face.  Fire ignites within her eyes in a sudden burst of energy before being swallowed by shadow.

My stomach plummets to the ground beneath me as I stare into the eyes of someone I do not recognize. Bellatrix’s lips curl into a cruel smile. My hand shakes as I reach out to wrap it around Bellatrix’s. I need to see the warmth return to her eyes. I know it is there, and if I can find it I will find Bellatrix as well.

Her gaze snaps to my hand before she roughly knocks it away.

“Don’t touch me,” she growls.

“Okay. Sorry.” I say quietly. Her head snaps up and our eyes lock. I know I need to leave.

Subtly I inch toward the edge of the stone slab we are on, but before I can stand Bellatrix’s hand wraps tightly around my upper arm. Pain bursts from beneath her fingers and I bite my bottom lip to silence my gasp.

Cautiously placing my hand on top of hers I attempt to loosen Bellatrix’s fingers.  I watch the muscles in her hand bulge as she tightens her grip in response.

Removing my eyes from my arm my focus narrows in on the cruel smile lingering on Bellatrix’s face. The effect that it has on the rest of her features is chilling, and for the first time fear enters my system. My heart stops beating as it is frozen by the new emotion. I struggle to breathe as my blood is no longer pumped through my body, and I begin to lose focus as it turns to sludge.

The world around me becomes black and all I can see is Bellatrix’s empty eyes. I refuse to rip my gaze from hers; not knowing what will happen if I can’t even see the hollowness.

“Please stop.”  I choke out. There is no response.

 “You’re hurting me,” Biting my lower lip I can feel my eyes widen as Bellatrix’s smile becomes more malicious.

“Bella, you’re hurting me.” Relief washes over me when she finally lets go.

Carefully I breathe air back into my lungs. My heart slowly begins to race again. My eyes flutter closed as the searing pain in my arm overruns all other signals from my brain.

When I open my eyes it is just in time to watch in amazement as the golden hue seeps back into Bellatrix’s dark orbs.

The relief has brought numbness to my body; however, I can still sense the fear lingering in the recesses of my mind.

Bellatrix’s gaze roams over me. I can feel it cautiously probing me for answers. There is a small tug in my mind and I lock eyes with Bellatrix. Her gaze is unwavering and I realize she is trying to search my memories for what she needs to know.

Instead of scolding her for not asking I nod and attempt to mentally let my walls down.

I gasp; my thoughts and memories flash before me as Bellatrix filters carefully through them. Oddly I can feel the tenderness in her search. I know it is there because there was no sharp pain like Harry described when he was practicing Legilimency with Snape.

As quickly as Bellatrix’s presence was there it is no longer in my mind. Automatically she pushes herself away from me and curls her knees into her chest.

“How did you do that without your wand?”

“Years of practice.” She replies. Her head is turned away me.  “You are better at defending your mind than I thought you would be.”

“Harry and I used to practice when we were looking for horcruxes.”

I thought I had effectively distracted Bellatrix from what I know she saw by asking her questions, but as I watch her retreat into herself I know it wasn’t enough.

“I’m sorry,” Bellatrix says faintly.

“It’s okay.” I rest my hand on her arm and she flinches.

“You should go.”

I nod even though I know she’s not watching me.

“Please think about the trial, Bella.”

Her eyes flash toward mine and I stand. They are a stormy mixture of gold and black against a brown backdrop.

Berating myself for feeling as if I need to be on the defense; I cautiously approaching Bellatrix and kiss her forehead as I mumble, “Take care of yourself.”

She nods curtly and I leave.

**  
“How can you side with her? She tortured you, Hermione!”  Harry yells.

I watch him pace back and forth in front of me. My fingers wrap around my wand as him movements become more erratic.

Silently I curse myself for thinking it was a good idea to talk to Harry alone.

“No she didn’t,” I confess quietly.

“What?” He snaps back.

“She didn’t torture me. She helped us escape.”

“I don’t believe you.” The heat of his anger sizzles over me and a few sparks erupt from the end of his wand.

“I’m not asking you to.”

I sigh. All I wanted to do is ask Harry if he would come over for dinner tonight. I was foolish for thinking that  we could put our differences aside for one night. Before I could manage to cast a silencing charm on the room he began to verbally assault me about Bellatrix. I tried to leave, but loyalty convinced me to stay and listen to him.

“Then what do you want?”

“To be friends again.” I can hear the defeat in my tone.

“Stop spending time with Bellatrix.”

“I can’t do that, Harry.”

“Then we have nothing to talk about,” He informs me as he pushes past me to leave.

“Harry, wait!” When he ignores me ire flares to the surface of my skin. It licks my flesh warmly and urges me forward.

Grabbing Harry’s wrist I whip him around.

“How can you be so dense? Look at my arms.” Pushing up my sleeves I show him where the scars should be.

“Nice glamour charm,” He snaps

 “She barely laid a hand on me! If you stopped and pulled your head out of your arse you could actually use the brain in it and see she’s changed!”

Guilt tugs at my heart knowing that there is a deep purple bruise on my upper arm from the very person I’m defending. In a way I’m lying to Harry and there was a point in time that my guilt would automatically consume me for doing so.

“She killed Sirius and Dobby, Hermione!”

“And she’s paid for it dearly thanks to you!”

“She deserves to be in Azkaban!”

The rage that was softly dancing on my skin bites and my whole body burns as my breathing becomes labored. I narrow my eyes and Harry takes a step back. Before I know what is happening I am watching my hand connect with Harry’s face.

He stares at me in shock. Angry red fingers are already appearing on his skin.

“Have a nice day, Harry,” I say venomously before leaving the room.

 

**

A smile creeps onto my face as I watch my dinner guests. Ron is in a heated debate with Tonks about the latest Chudley Cannons’ Quidditch match, and Andromeda and Mrs. Weasley are having a friendly conversation about the efficiency of the latest healing spell. I glance over to my right where Minerva is sitting silently and watching the rest of the table. The soft smile on her lips illuminates her face and causes her eyes to twinkle.

 Her eyes flicker to mine and her smile widens. I smile back at her. I’m mesmerized by the elegant radiance that glows around Minerva. Shaking my head I catch Mrs. Weasley stop talking and stare at us for a few seconds before returning to her conversation.

Reaching out I rest my hand on Minerva’s arm and I can feel her lean in closer to me.

“Are you swamped with work tonight?” I ask quietly.

“Why?” Minerva’s eyes meet mine and I am hit by the emotions swarming in the emerald depths.

“I was hoping you would stay for a little while after everyone has left.”

“Is everything all right?” Instantly I can feel the caress of her eyes searching my face for signs of distress.

I nod my head reassuringly, “I just wanted to spend some time with you. It feels as if we haven’t talked in weeks.”

“Indeed it does. I believe I can spare a few hours tonight.”

 I squeeze her arm before turning my attention to Tonks. As I do I notice angry marks on Andromeda’s arm.

 

xx  
“Can I talk to you for a moment?” I whisper into Dromeda’s ear. Her hair brushes against my cheek as she nods.

My eyes graze over the people crushed on the couch and I smile. It widens as I note that Minerva has commandeered the only chair.

Her eyes meet mine and I raise an eyebrow. Her emerald pools twinkle with joy and I roll my eyes.

“Since the Transfiguration Professor seems to be quite content with leaving the five of you to fit on the couch allow me to conjure you a few more seats.”

Waving my wand two chairs appear in the room. I watch as Ron and Tonks launch themselves off the couch and into chairs.

“Thanks for all the help, Minerva.”

“You’re quite welcome dear.”

Biting my lip to stifle a laugh I wait for Minerva to look at me. However, her eyes remain subtly placed elsewhere. Following her gaze she appears to be looking over Andromeda’s shoulder, but I know better. I notice not only Andromeda, but Ron, and Tonks glancing between us.

I want to ask why everyone keeps looking at us like that tonight, but decide it’s probably better not to know what is going through their overactive imaginations.

“I’m going to go get a few drinks out of the cooler on the patio. Does anybody want anything?”

“What’s a cooler?” Ron asks and I notice Mrs. Weasley looking just as puzzled.

“It’s an ice box.” I can tell my answer doesn’t help him. “Tonks will you try to explain it?”

She nods and for some reason launches into an intense explanation filled with wizard comparisons.

“Let me help you, Hermione,” Andromeda says and follows me outside.

The cool air hits my face and opens my lungs. I no longer feel nervous about approaching Andromeda. I gaze at my rooftop garden noting the weeds that need attending too.

Before I can ask anything Dromeda’s voice floats through the air.

“I heard you invited Narcissa tonight.”

“I did,” I say as I look up at the night sky. I can barely make out the faint constellations over the city lights. I proceed to name them in my head, which allows me to shove my nerves away.

“Narcissa told me what you said. I know you want to help her, but…”

“What happened to your arm?” I interject.

“What do you mean?” As I turn to face her I find Andromeda tugging her sleeve down.

Reaching out I pull her sleeve back up against her protests, “Was it her?” I say. As soon as my words leave my lips they are swallowed by the night.

Andromeda nods once. The movement is so slight I’m afraid I misinterpreted it. My heart begins to pound in my chest. I can feel the reality of the situation tearing the precious flesh of the organ. My fingers graze the red coarse lines on her soft skin before she turns away from me.

“How long ago was it?” I ask.

She shrugs.

“Why are you hiding it?”

“The same reason you are.” Dromeda’s eyes find mine. “Don’t deny it. She’s been hurting to you too.”

Removing my sweater I hold my arm out for Dromeda to see. I bite my lip as my own eyes wander over my skin. My wrist is outlined in mustard yellow. It’s barely noticeable, but still there from the day I snuck into Azkaban. I swallow as my eyes rest on the purple and blue blotch around my upper arm. A glance at Dromeda informs me her eyes are riveted to the same spot.

“What about Narcissa? Has Bell…”

Andromeda nods sharply cutting off the truth that is trying to sneak into the world and buzz in the wrong ears.

“How bad does Narcissa look?”

“No worse than me,” Andromeda replies shrugging. “It’s only happened once for both of us.” Her implication hangs between us before slithering into my ears, down my throat, and wrapping around my lungs.

“I see. Do you know if Minerva’s hurt?”

“Minerva, huh?” Dromeda asks. There is something in the ways she says this that makes me nervous.

“Um, yeah.”

“Very few people have the privilege of calling Professor McGonagall, Minerva.”

I shrug, “Most of the people I know do.”

“How many? “

“Well there’s you, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Shacklebolt, and Bellatrix.”

“I’m not sure if you noticed but it tends to be upon request that we address her as Minerva. And then there’s you.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing,” Dromeda says shrugging. “Minerva wouldn’t confide in me if she were injured.”

“How long do you think she has left before she’s gone?”

“My sister?” I nod. I cannot bring myself to utter her name.

“I don’t know. Keep reminding her about the trial.”

“I am, but I’m afraid by the time she agrees it will be too late.” I reluctantly admit.

“Me too, Hermione, me too.”

 

xx  
 Andromeda pulls me into a tight hug and kisses my cheek while whispering, “Hold in there,” before she and Tonks leave. I can hear the faint pop as they apparate in the alley next to my flat.

I turn to Ron and Mrs. Weasley. Ron is staring down at his shoes and shifting around nervously. Mrs. Weasley is beaming at me. Her friendly demeanor tonight has caused guilt to settle in the pit of my stomach. Not only have I hurt Ron, but I have ignored the rest of the Weasleys when it is clear that I am still welcome at the Burrow.

I feel ridiculous for thinking that I was no longer part of their family. Maybe my assumption was for the best. Since I was too weak to gather my Gryffindor courage I forced myself to take my first steps toward a new life.

Possibly the brief distance was enough for Ron and I to mature and become who we needed to be while we were apart so that we could remain friends.

I gently place a hand on Ron’s shoulder to kindly drag him out of his thoughts. When he looks at me I tug on his arm. As he moves closer to me I wrap my arms around him.

“Thanks for coming over,” I whisper in his ear.

“No problem. It’s nice to see you.”

“You too.  Would it be alright if my face appeared in your fireplace later? I need to talk to you before tomorrow.”

“Of course.”

 I watch Mrs. Weasley discreetly trying to decipher our quiet conversation.  My eyes flicker to Minerva who is standing behind her. She nods at me and I focus back on Ron.

“What do you need to talk about?” He asks.

“Harry.”

“Is he still being a git? I told him to knock it off.”

“Not exactly.”

Realizing we have been hugging for an abnormally long amount of time I press a kiss into his hair and let him go. He steps back to allowing Mrs. Weasley and I room to exchange goodbyes.

Instantly I find myself in the warm embrace. As she holds me tightly I can feel the tears forming in my eyes. I’ve missed her motherly presence.

“Stop by more often dear. We miss you at the Burrow.”

“I will.”

I bury my face in her hair. My words mingle with a content sigh as I whisper, “Thank you,” into her ear.

She gives me a final squeeze before stepping away. I notice her run a finger across the edge of her eye. I mimic her actions erasing my own happy tears.

I watch the brief, formal interaction between the Weasleys and Minerva before they leave. Andromeda’s words are fresh in my mind as Minerva kindly urges both Molly and Ron to call her Minerva before they leave.

I motion toward the couch and Minerva follows me. As I perch on the edge of the sofa next to Minerva I observe how her shoulders slouch, just slightly, not enough to ruin her perfect posture. The corners of her lips are turn upward and her eyes flutter shut for a moment.

“Did you have fun tonight?”  I ask quietly.

“Yes.”

 I shift closer to Minerva before leaning into the couch. I smile as she follows suit.

“How has your week been?” She asks.

I recall the mundane details of my week, yet, no matter how small the detail Minerva appears to be paying rapt attention. I tell her about my run in with Harry earlier and can’t help but smile as her eyes go wide.

“What about your week? How was it?”

“Good.”

I wait for Minerva to reveal more, but it becomes obvious that she is not going to elaborate. Her brief response makes me wonder how much I really know about Minerva. She knows intimate details of my life, but I don’t even know what she does during a typical day as Headmistress.

“Good? Any stories to share?”

“Not particularly.”

“Minerva,” I sigh. I don’t know why this is bothering me so much. Clearly Minerva is a private person. I should just be happy that she is comfortable enough to relax around me.

“Yes?”

“Nevermind.”

“What is it?”

“It’s just, you know so much about me and I know so little about you.”

“My life isn’t very exciting dear.”

“I don’t even know simple things about you.”

I watch her back straighten and eyes begin to harden. I know that I shouldn’t push, but I’m curious. I’ve always been curious about Minerva’s life outside of Hogwarts, and now that the thought has popped into my mind it’s going to tear apart my brain until I get answers.

“We’re friends right?”

“Of course,” She frowns as if to state ‘it goes without saying’.

“Would you consider us close friends?”

Minerva nods her head. Emerald green eyes roam the room before landing on mine.

I take her hand in mine, “You know so much about me, and I know almost nothing about you. I know of your accomplishments and contributions to the wizarding world, but who doesn’t? I want to get to know Minerva not Professor McGonagall. Does that make sense?”

“What would you like to know?”

A million questions flood my mind at once. Briefly my mind flashes to when I had a similar conversation with Bellatrix, and decide to start simple instead of jumping right into what I want to know.

“What’s your favorite flavor of tea?”

“Earl Grey with a hint of honey. Now ask me what you really want to know.”

“Okay.” Her gaze is piercing through me; making it hard to breathe. I can sense the barriers prepared to defend at any moment. “Are you married?”

As soon as it comes out of my mouth the question sounds ridiculous. I would know if Minerva had a husband. She wouldn’t be able to hide that from me. Would she?

“I was.”

“Was?”

“Elphinstone passed away. So yes, was.”

“I’m sorry. How long ago did he pass away?”

“Many years ago, dear.” Her voice is calm and it reassures me she is being truthful.

“Do you have children?”

“No, but I have two brothers.”

Taking a moment to process the new information I think of what to ask Minerva next. I feel as if I could ask her anything right now, but only in this moment, when she is being so open and honest with me.

“What do you like to do in your free time?” I shouldn’t have to ask this type of question; when I think about the fact that I do a sharp pain races through my chest.

She is silent for a moment. “I don’t have much of it, and lately I’ve found that the little time I can spare I seem to spend with you.”

“What kind of things would you like to do when we’re together?” As each word leaves my mouth the odder the question seems to get.

Minerva quirks an eyebrow at me and I look away. I will the burning in my cheeks to disappear.

“I enjoy playing chess, reading, and the occasional drink is always nice.”

I jump up immediately, “Of course. I’m sorry. I’ve never really been good at being a host. My mom is the one you want to invite you over. Would you like a drink? I have some of that scotch that you like.”

“In that case, how can I say no?”

I smile at Minerva before busying myself with drinks. When I’m done I grab my old chess set. It was a gift from my dad for my tenth birthday.

“Here,” I say quietly passing Minerva her drink. Sitting next to her I open the leather case in my arms and begin to set up the board. By the time I finish I find I am placing the pieces on the board with one hand while my other is held captive by Minerva.

Her touch is comforting. It slows down my mind, which usually is processing nonstop. For once my worries about Bellatrix are eased, the thought of my parents distant, and the stress of my job vanished. I wish I could feel this way all the time; like the  weight of all my friends’ problems weren’t threatening to collapse my chest.

“Thank you.” I whisper more to myself then Minerva.

“What for?”

“Being my friend.”

“You’re more than welcome dear. I enjoy our friendship as well.”

I roll my eyes at Minerva, but can’t stop the grin from spreading across my face. “At ten there is a program on television that I want to watch if you would like to join me.”

“What is it?”

“Well a television is a box…”

“No dear, the program.”

“Right. Sorry I just assumed that since you’re a witch you wouldn’t know…”

“It’s quite all right,” She interrupts reassuringly, however, that doesn’t stop my embarrassment from setting my cheeks on fire.

“It’s a special on the Pyramids. Apparently the muggles are getting closer to discovering the ancient magic in the tombs. Everyone at the Ministry is on edge as they try to run damage control.”

“Really? I wonder why Shacklebolt hasn’t contacted me about this.”

Shrugging I reach out and move my pawn on the board. Minerva’s eyes flash brilliantly in challenge before moving her own pawn.

  
  
**  
Strong hands push me away and I stumble backward. My fall is hindered by the cell wall. My head slams against the stone and instantly my surroundings blur.

Bellatrix stands in front of me. I can tell she is shaking. “GET OUT!” She screams.

Her words cause an incurable cold to seep into my bones as they echo in my ears. Her voice is empty;  her eyes are burning with rage.

I scramble out of the cell as quickly as I can, and for the first time I lock the cell behind me.

 

  
**

Cautiously I approach Bellatrix. As if reminding me, there is suddenly a sharp pain in the back of my head right where it hit the wall.

Bellatrix had been fine three weeks ago when I came to visit. We sat outside. She laughed a few times and held my hand, but as soon as we entered the cell the air around us seemed to disappear. Quietly she had asked me to leave, but I refused. I mentioned asking for a trial, but stubbornly she told me she wouldn’t. I went to give her a hug and the next thing I knew I was up against wall on the other side of her cell.

“Bellatrix?”

“Hermione.” Turning to me I can detect the fear in her eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to bring you back to your cell, like always.”

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“Why not?” I take a step closer to Bellatrix and she stands as she scrambles backward.

“Stay there.”

“Bella, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I know, but I can’t say the same to you.” Her voice cracks on the last word. Looking into her eyes they are glossy with tears.

“Bella,” I attempt to inch closer to her, but every time I do she distances herself further. She begins to shake and tears leak onto her face, but she continues to back away from me. “It’s okay. I promise. Come here.”

As I hold out a hand to her and step forward Bellatrix takes a step back; one too far. As she teeters on the edge of the cliff, her arms out in an attempt to balance, I rush forward and grab her arm, yanking her forward.

My heart is pushing out of my chest. I can hear the skin above it ripping each time the organ slams against it. Wrapping my arms around Bellatrix I hold her as close as possible, afraid to let go.

She is breathing heavily in my ear. Her body trembles with fear and the weight of her tears.  Running my hands through her hair I attempt to soothe her. As I do so I slowly lead her closer to the side of the prison to give us privacy from the prying eyes of Jones.

I slide down the wall bringing Bellatrix with me. She curls into me and I place kisses wherever my lips can reach. I lightly brush my lips against her cheek, which is slick with salty tears. I can sense my own tears beginning to build. My eyes sting as I force my tears back. The harsh wind blows against us and I pull Bellatrix closer to me.

Her breathing begins to even out and I relax into her.

“I’m so sorry, Hermione,” She whispers as quietly as a summer breeze.

“Don’t apologize.”

“I don’t mean for it to happen.”

“I know you don’t, Bella. You need to get out of here.”

“I can’t.”

“You could ask for a trial.”

“Do you really think I’ll be found innocent?” Her tone is full of exasperation.  “The only way I’ll get out of here is if I escape, and then I will have to live the rest of my life on the run.”

“And this is better than that?” When our eyes meet I am overwhelmed by the pain and confusion I find. Leaning in I kiss Bellatrix softly hoping to take it all away.

She sighs and rests her head on my shoulder. Glancing down at her my gaze stops on her arm. I can feel myself inhale sharply at the sight of the Dark Mark residing there. Reaching out, I run my fingers over the design and goose bumps follow in my wake.

“What did he do to you?” The question was meant for myself, but the wind picks it up and carries it to her ears.

She shifts and looks up at me. The sight of her wide, vulnerable eyes runs like a knife down my heart. I can almost feel the blood running from the wound.

“Bring a pensive next time.” I nod as my nerves begin to taunt my stomach. What am I going to see?

“I need to take you back.” Her eyes beg me not to. “I’m sorry,” I whisper against her lips before kissing her.

“If I tell you to leave you need to.” I know not to fight Bellatrix on this so I nod before we get up.

We walk back to her cell in silence.

When we enter I pull her into my arms. I wish I could use a disillusionment charm and take her with me, but I would never get away with it, and every chance Bellatrix of being freed would be gone.

“Go,” Bellatrix breathes into my ear. My skin tingles as she touches her lips to my cheek.

“Let me help you through this.”

“Hermione.”

“Please, we can do this together.” I whisper.

“You need to go!”

“You can’t keep pushing me away.”

“Listen to me.”

“Let me help you,” I say gently. Hoping my soft tone will reach her.

Abruptly I am staring into black, emotionless eyes.  My head snaps to the side as Bellatrix’s fist collides with my cheek. Stumbling backwards my face begins to feel as if a million bees are stinging it at once. Something warm is running down my skin, and out of my mouth. Raising a shaky hand I clumsily feel the angry gash on my cheek.

Bellatrix is staring at me with a manic grin on her face. I can feel my eyes widen as I back toward the door.

“You foolish girl.”

“Bella?” Her crazed smile fades for a moment before returning.

Reaching the barred door I rush out of the cell and lock it behind me. I am followed by hollow laughter.

Shakily I cast a glamour charm over my face before leaving. I take my time as I attempt to compose myself before I have to meet Jones.

 

xx  
Numbly I knock on the door. There is no answer so I push it open and step into the Headmistress’ office. 

“Minerva?”

 I am met with silence.

“She’s at dinner dear.”

Glancing up Professor Dumbledore catches my eye: his are filled with concern.

“Okay,” I say weakly while shrugging.

I should have stopped to think before leaving work.

“Why don’t you take a seat Hermione?”

I nod as his voice registers in my brain, yet hollowness keeps me nailed to the floor, and pours lead into my lungs.

My eyes wander around the office and I realize that I am surrounded by the heavy silence that has filled my heart. My neck gives in to the weight of my brain as intangible thoughts swirl around just out of my grasp. Biting my lip I fight back the tears that sear the back of my eyes.

The room is pressing in on me.

I don’t know how long I’ve been standing here when I hear the stairs begin to move. The door swings open, but I don’t bother to turn around.

“Hermione?” I listen to Minerva’s footsteps as she crosses the room. Her hand rests on my back, and I begin to quiver beneath it like dragon egg hatching. Unable to stop the movement  it rushes a signal to my brain to destroy the weak barricade holding back my tears.

Minerva wraps her arms around me and I bury my face in her shoulder. The fabric of her robe is rough against my skin, and irritates the wound on my cheek. The salt of my tears stings in my torn flesh. I hear myself wince before I can stop it. The sound is not quiet enough to pass as a sniffle, and instead comes out as a hiss.

Minerva gently pushes me back so that I am arm’s length away. Her hands remain firmly and reassuringly on my upper arms.

“What’s wrong?” She asks. She dips her head as she attempts to look into my eyes.

Forcing my neck to move despite its agonizing screams I focus on the bookshelf behind Minerva. Out of the corner of my eye I notice her tilt her head as her gaze remains focused on my face. My eyes widen against my will as I sense she can see something I don’t want her to. Her cloak rustles as she reaches inside its depths, and pulls out her wand.

“Please don’t,” I request weakly. I wrap my hand around her wrist in protest, but it twitches and the warmth of her magic sweeps over my face.

She inhales sharply and gentle fingers tilt my head. “Who did this to you?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Your face looks as if it smashed into a bludger; don’t tell me it doesn’t matter. Who did this?”

I shake my head stubbornly. “It’s not important.”

Minerva is silent for a moment. “It was Bellatrix wasn’t it?”

I can hear the anger in her voice: it quakes and promises deadly consequences.

Minerva pulls away from me and I grasp desperately for her cloak, but the velvety fabric slips through my fingers. She moves toward the fireplace calmly. It is an eerie calm that leaves me with a plummeting sensation in my stomach.

“Where are you going?”

“Something must be done.”

“What? No!” Rushing forward my hand wraps around her wrist and I wrench her away from the now emerald flames.

“Please, it wasn’t her fault,” My voice becomes shriller with each word.

“She can’t keep hurting you, Hermione.”

“Please don’t leave me,” I croak out.

I try to breathe and as the air enters my lungs it attempts to squeeze in around the unsaid words, pain, and fear, but fails. Without their salvation my lungs collapse beneath the weight of a million lives all begging for my sympathy. I struggle to seize the air I need, but all I can do is wheeze. A searing pain travels through my chest. My hands grasp at Minerva’s arms and tighten around them as the room begins to swim before me. I stretch my mouth until its seams threaten to rip, but no air trickles into my lungs. My whole body screams, and I wish someone would hear it.

 Minerva’s soft tones immerge through my panic.  “Listen to my voice,” she instructs as she takes both my hands.

 “Look at me.” My eyes grind against their sockets as I force them to meet Minerva’s.

“That’s it. Breathe. Deep calming breaths.” Her voice claws at the weight on my chest until it breaks through and yanks my lungs apart allowing me to breathe.

“I’m not going anywhere, I promise,” Minerva whispers.

I nod my head before collapsing into her arms. My tears mock me as they fall, and by body threatens to break with each sob that wracks my body.  Minerva’s embrace is strong and safe. It reassures me that I will not fall; I will not shatter. Minerva runs her hands through my hair, and whispers promises of protection and care into my ear.

When she is certain I can stand on my own Minerva asks me to follow her into her private quarters. However, as I veer toward the couch she takes my hand and guides me through another door.

As I enter the room my eyes widen as I take in the king size bed covered with an emerald green blanket. My gaze rapidly searches the room taking in every detail including the desk next to me, the wardrobe on the adjacent wall, a door in the back of the room, and the armchair next to the arched window.

“What?” Minerva asks startling me. I hadn’t realized she had been watching me.

“Are you sure you want me here?”

“If I didn’t I wouldn’t have brought you in here.”

“I know, but Minerva this is your bedroom. I’m invading your privacy.”

Minerva chooses to ignore my response, and instead motions for me to sit on the bed before disappearing into another room. I perch awkwardly on the edge. I feel as if I am a kid violating Hogwarts’ rules and waiting to be punished. I shouldn’t be here. This is the Headmistress’ bedroom.

No this is Minerva’s bedroom.

With that thought the room rapidly becomes less daunting.

Minerva reappears with a towel, a bowl, and potion bottle in her hands. Waving her wand the room is illuminated in a dim light.

“Magic is quicker,” I state.

“Magic can be impersonal,” She responds.

“You don’t have to do this, Minerva. It will only take me a few seconds to heal the wound.”

“I want to,” She states reassuringly as she crosses the room.

“You don’t have to.”

“The last thing I am going to do is allow you to wave a wand and make everything disappear. It does not matter how much magic you use in an attempt to erase it or cover it up it won’t go away, my dear.”

I nod and drop my head. Clasping my hands together I fight back the numbness invading my body. I need this pain. I need to remember what it feels like.

Minerva’s legs push against mine as she places the items in her hands on the night stand. Minerva leans over me and I grasp tightly to the robes at her waist. I close my eyes as I feel her hands rest on my arms and her lips brush against my forehead. When I open my eyes I discover hers wandering over my skin. I cautiously bite my split lip as I wait for her to finish. The caress of Minerva’s eyes is not unpleasant, but the emotions in them are.

Sighing she pulls away and grabs the towel. My mind becomes preoccupied with the sound of the bowl being filled with water.

“Wait,” I say as Minerva wets the towel. “I want…I want to see it.”

Minerva nods and steps aside. “The bathroom’s through there.”

Cautiously I step inside the large room and meet my reflection in the mirror. What I find causes me to flinch. Black and purple serve as decoration around the jagged laceration on the right side of my face. The dark red trails of blood are the ribbon to the present Bellatrix has given me. I raise trembling fingers to my skin as Minerva appears in the doorway. I run them lightly over the wound before closing my eyes.

When I open them again I note the emptiness that has swallowed them and hollowness creeping into my expression. With a numb heart I turn toward Minerva and nod.

Perching on the edge of the bed Minerva resumes her previous spot standing in front of me. Her hand lightly nudges my tightly pressed knees and I shift my position so she can move closer. My hands wander to Minerva’s waist as she gently cleans the blood from my face. I find myself absently trailing my fingers up her ribcage and mutter an apology. I cannot decipher the look she gives me, but it causes the edges of my lips to curl despite the battle cries echoing inside of me.

“This will sting,” Minerva says before dabbing the potion on my cheek. Instantly I feel it beginning to heal my check, but it doesn’t sting it burns: badly. Wincing my grip tightens on her waist and I lean my head against her chest. Minerva’s hands dance soothingly across my back.

When I pull away Minerva sends me an apologetic look as she banishes the materials on the nightstand into the other room.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

“You’re welcome dear. I’m afraid you will have to move over though.”

“Um, all right.” Confused I slide over a few inches.

She chuckles, “To the other side of the bed. You’re on my side.”

“What?”

“You’re on my side of the bed. If you’re spending the night I’m afraid you will have to sleep on the other side.”

“Oh, no! I can go home. I’m sure you want privacy. Not that I don’t appreciate what you’ve…”

“I would feel better if you spent the night here.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yes I’m sure you are,” Her tone informs me that she doesn’t believe a single word I just said. “But I would prefer you stay here just in case.”

I am about to protest further when I notice Minerva flick her wand. A light breeze sweeps over my body and I find myself wearing tartan pajama pants and top instead of my robes.

“You’ve decided to stay. Wonderful,” Minerva says in an overly cheery tone.

I snort quietly in amusement before sliding over to the opposite side of the bed. Minerva props herself up against the headboard, and picks her book up off the nightstand. Shifting she opens the book and begins to read.

Resting my head on the pillow I stare up at the ceiling. Bellatrix’s empty eyes flash in my mind followed by the image of Bellatrix quietly crumbling outside of Azkaban.  My fingers glide over my tingling cheek. There is a thin line where Bellatrix’s ring shred my flesh.

“It wasn’t her fault. It was mine,” I announce to the ceiling quietly. I hear Minerva shut her book and set it on the night table. I refuse to look at her and instead keep my eyes focused straight ahead. If I speak to the ceiling the memories flashing through my mind will hurt less. If I look at Minerva and see not only the pain Bellatrix caused me, but Minerva, in those emerald pools I’ll crumble.

“She told me before we went back to her cell if she said to leave I needed to. I couldn’t leave her though, not in that place. I don’t even remember them changing, but I looked into Bellatrix’s eyes and they were empty. And then she hit me. It wasn’t her fault.”

“You should have listened to her…”

“I know,” I interrupt.

“…but she still had no right to hurt you.”

“It’s not her fault.”

“Bellatrix knows her mind better than anyone, Hermione. After all she has been locked up with herself for a good portion of her life.”

“Why won’t she ask for her trial?”

“You know why.” Minerva states.

I sigh.

“Has she hurt you before?” Minerva’s voice wavers and fear begins to lace my mind.

Rolling onto my side my gaze finds Minerva’s and I nod.

Fury flashes red against green, but Minerva quickly contains her emotions. I reach for her hand. Her skin is warm against mine and Minerva fights away the fear has already burrowed into my mind as her thumb glides across the back of my hand.

“Where?”

“My wrist, but you can’t see it anymore,” I state. I barely recognize my voice as it enters the room.

“Is that is?”

I shake my head no. Slowly I unbutton the first four buttons of my shirt. Minerva turns her head away from me and my stomach clenches. Slipping my upper arm out of the shirt I reveal the dark bruise that has not faded despite the amount of time that has passed since the incident occurred.

“Minerva?”

Her head turns in my direction and her eyes lock onto my arm. Reaching out she runs her fingers carefully over the tender flesh.

“How long ago was it?” She asks. I observe her discreetly turn her head and brush her knuckle against the corners of her eyes.

“About a month and a half.”

She nods, but keeps her head turned.

“I, um, also hit the back of my head when she shoved me.”

“Today?”

“No a few weeks ago.”

“Have you had anyone look at it?”

“No.”

Minerva has me slide closer her and I point out where I hit my head. Her fingers move gently through my hair as she inspects the back of my head. I hear her mutter a spell before the warmth of her magic caresses me.

“If there was any damage it appears to have healed.”

“Okay.”

I button my shirt before I return to my early position of staring at the ceiling. The silence wraps its fingers around my throat and squeezes until I can’t breathe before letting go. It’s touch is heavy with my spoken words and unvoiced emotions.

My eyes wander to Minerva and I discover glassy, distant eyes. I can detect a faint tear trail on her cheek and I inhale shakily.

The sudden sound returns Minerva to the room and she gazes down at me with sad eyes. Uncertainly I reach up and gently wipe away the lingering tears.

“I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

“You shouldn’t have had to say anything.” She replies.

“I’m sorry you have to deal with me like this.” I can feel the heat burning my cheeks and my eyes dart to a safe space on the wall.

“Nonsense. I’m not dealing with you.”

“Yes you are.”

“No, I’m taking care of you.” Minerva responds kindly.

“I should be able to take care of myself.”

“Everyone needs a friend. We’re friends, right?”

“Of course.” I say automatically as I sit up.

“Would you consider us close friends?”

I nod my head.

“Then trust me,” She says quietly as if she is afraid we will be overheard. “Let me help you.”

“Didn’t we have this conversation the other day?” I ask hoping to defuse the grave atmosphere burdening the room.

“If I recall the positions were reversed.”

“You used some odd form of psychology on me didn’t you?”

Minerva rolls her eyes at me.

“Maybe we need to have the conversation more than once before it sticks in either of our heads.”

“Maybe.”  Yawning I slide closer to Minerva and lean against her. I slip my arm around her waist and pull her closer into a hug before letting go. “Thanks.”

I smile at her. “You know you’re my best friend, right?”

“I assumed that role was reserved for Bellatrix.” She responds.

“It’s different.”

“How so?”

I shrug.

“I love you, Minerva,” I admit in barely more than a whisper. The words linger familiarly in my mouth and saturate the air between us.

“And I you my dear.” She wraps her arms around me and holds me tightly for a moment.

“Now I’m afraid that I have work to do, and you need to rest.”

“What time is it?” I ask.

“Ten-thirty.”

“It feels so much later.”

“It does.”

“Promise you won’t stay up much longer.”

“I promise. In fact, I will work at my desk in here so if you wake up and I am still working you can scold me.”

“I wouldn’t scold you.”

“Really?” She asks in a lighthearted tone.

“Okay maybe I would.”

“I thought so. Sleep, Hermione.”

I nod and slip under the covers before turning to face the window. I close my eyes, but I can already sense sleep slithering through my fingers in an attempt to protect me.

Quietly I lay listening to the scratching of Minerva’s quill. My eyes wander the constellations as my mind automatically recalls their stories.  

Minutes blend into hours before Minerva turns off the light.

Cool air rushes against my back as she lifts the covers. I listen to her shift and the bed sinks almost unnoticeably as Minerva lays behind me. She is close enough that I can sense the faint warmth of her body.

Reaching back I lift Minerva’s arm and drape it over my torso. She slides forward and pulls me closer.

“Goodnight, Minerva,” I whisper.

“Goodnight, my dear.”

As I shut my eyes I can feel sleep working away at the edges of my mind: coaxing me into an empty dream. With Minerva’s arm around me I can accept sleep’s invitation. The embrace swathes us in a silent promise: Minerva will protect me from harm until Bellatrix is able to do so. 

As if she can hear my thoughts Minerva leans forward and her breath tickles my ear as she whispers, “Always.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Story:** When Everything Changed

 **Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

 **Rated:** M

 **Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N 1: Italics are a flashback. Also ** before a new paragraph after a break indicates a scene change. While xx means skipping further into that scene. I just wanted to clarify. Please let me know if these symbols aren’t showing up.**

**A/N 2: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.  
_____________________________________________________________________________________**

**Bellatrix’s POV**

Two voices whisper in the dark.  Hands grasp the battered cloth around my body wrenching and tearing it before tightly grasping my arms and dragging me up. Ire threatens to rupture my suffocating flesh allowing the monster to slither from my soul to collect its pray. A blood chilling cackle rings in my ears, and wraps around my throat.

I thrash against the binds holding me causing my body to tangle with others. My fingers tear at flesh and shred at clothing. Razorblades run down my throat struggling against the oncoming sound. Hollow laughter fills my ears and drowns insane pleas and clanking of chains.

Light sears against my skin and claws at my eyes. I clamp them shut and beg the iron hands holding me to release me. Dropping to the ground I struggle to breathe through the noose around my neck. Raising a shaky hand I run my fingers along the ghost rope. Tears scorch down my check leaving scars in their wake. My fingers dig into the earth beneath me. I blindly search for the chains binding me, but no traces of the apparition remain. Crumpling into myself the rough fabric of my clothes grinds against my face tearing away the flesh of an unrecognizable person.

The air that rushes to my lungs holds a distant familiarity. I choke and sputter on the icy necessity and it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Nails rip apart my lungs removing the only lifeline that keeps me here.

An arm circles my back and tugs me into a safe embrace. Thick brown curls tickle my face and the smell of baby formula and vanilla swirls in front of my nose. I bury my face deeper into the genuine warmth. My tears are captured by the net of hair in front of me. Hands rub my back soothingly and the soft voice of Andromeda whispers reassurance in my ear.

Shrugging off Dromeda’s arms I hide my face behind a veil hair to allow myself time to hide my tears and gain composure.

Clearing my throat I glance over at the other figure. Narcissa is standing by the prison door. Her arms are folded across her chest in protection as her mind wanders out at sea. The distance between us screams of times she has cared for me as I destroyed the world around her.

Standing I cautiously approach her. Her pain stabs through me like basilisk fangs oozing the poison of a million defeats in the wake of my malice.

In an attempt to redress the chasm of agony I have carved into her soul I place a shaky hand on Cissy’s arm.

I observe the blood trickling from her split lip leaving behind a tale of abandonment and disappointment. When her blue eyes meet mine they pierce me with confusion.  Silently she demands answers and comfort I could never give her.

Her sudden movement rips my eyes from hers and I watch as she rubs her wrist in an attempt to erase the claw marks that have shredded her delicate skin.

I open my mouth to apologize but my words expand in my throat. Narcissa gazes at me with a bitter smirk placed firmly upon her face before returning her attention to the sea.

 “Bellatrix?” Dromeda asks quietly.

Slowly turning my head invisible hands clamp around my neck.

The flesh around Dromeda’s eye is the color of ink and a handprint decorates her perfect face.

The fingers crush tighter around throat collapsing my airway before disappearing into the howling sea.

“What?” I mummer with a beaten voice.

“Where do you go?”

“What?”

“When Azkaban gets too hard. Where do you go in your head?” Dromeda’s eyes scream of her sadness.

I shrug.

“Wherever it is,” Cissy says. I turn to her and watch the clash of emotions slaughter each other in her eyes. “You need to stop.”

“I can’t.” I admit.

“You don’t have a choice,” Narcissa says. Her voice is full of fiery warning.

“I can’t…”

“Hermione asked me to give this to you.” Dromeda interrupts handing me a worn book while shooting a warning glance in Cissy’s direction. A smile creeps onto my lips.

“How is she?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t heard from her in over a month,” Dromeda states.

“Then how did you…?” I begin to ask motioning toward the book.

“Minerva.  She says Hermione is as good as can be under the circumstances. I’m not sure what that means.”

I nod as my chest tightens. The jagged edges of my teeth rip away at the tender flesh in my mouth. Closing my eyes I attempt to elicit memories from Hermione’s visit. I can hear myself pleading for her to leave. I can feel the raw fury licking my skin and warm liquid dripping from my fingers.

I pry my eyes open as the blood ruptures from my heart drowning me in terror. Shakily inhaling I sketch a mask onto my face.

“How are Tonks and Draco? What about Teddy?” I ask.

Cissy and Dromeda recall events with their children since I talked to them last. I struggle to listen to them as my mind wanders to Hermione. Minerva has always been good at sugar coating things to protect others and I wonder what she is hiding. What have I done?

“Are you ready?” Cissy asks.

I nod. We walk up to the doors of Azkaban and I take a deep breath as we come to a stop. Cissy and Dromeda wrap their arms around mine. I know that they are preparing themselves.

“Wait,” I say as the doors open.

I fish the book Hermione sent me out of my pocket. Opening it I begin to read. I try my hardest to block out the screams around us and allow the words to create a picture in my mind.

When we are back in my cell I refuse to take my eyes off the pages. I feel faint kisses left on my cheeks, but I don’t bother to respond. I’m gone.

  
**  
The screams of the lifeless infant resonate through the cell begging for a chance to live. The little girl screeches the act of betrayal to the crashing sea surrounding us. My head falls to the side landing on the bundle of blankets. Protruding from the sheets tiny porcelain hands are tainted by crimson oozing from the organ beating and sputtering in her tiny fingers.

A sharpened stone slices through my withering skin and hollow cavity before rupturing through the brittle bones of my chest.  Red plasma spurts from around the spike before it recedes and reinserts itself through my empty shell.

Gasping I choke on the blood rushing up my throat and flattening the barricade of air. Sputtering, the warm fluid runs blades along its path. The liquid bubbles from my nose and claws at my remaining flesh.

His cold voice rings through the cell and his green tinted skin clouds my view. His razor teeth sparkle at me as my child’s eyes scream down at me from his arms. I watch the wand pointed between innocent eyes.

Scales rupture from my raw muscles. Fangs pierce against my crusty lips, and a deafening screech fills the air followed by the gushing of blood hitting the floor as I launch off the stone. Claws tear at the floating green face. As his sordid flesh is removed in chunks the face of an untainted boy is revealed.

The world goes black. I am suspended in time; tossed and turned by insane screams.

Warmth washes over me and a sharp breeze lashes at my tender skin.  Opening my eyes I find myself hovering above the ground paralyzed.

Minerva is standing over me with a strict expression on her face.

“I’m going to drop you now.”

With a thud I hit the ground. I push myself up on shaky limbs. Dirt sticks to my wet hands. Looking down I find blood smeared across my fingers and flesh beneath my nails.

“I…I’m sorry…I…” I stumble backward.

“I’m not the injured one,” Minerva states coldly.

“Wha…” Glancing down I find deep gashes in my arms and chest.

My body is shaking against the wind. Looking up I find Minerva staring at me with a hardened gaze. Her jaw is locked tightly. Fear runs its sharp nails through my system at the distant fury I discover within her emerald pools.

Taking a deep breath I meet Minerva’s eyes. “How are you?” My voice quakes as each word plummets to the ground before me.

“Talk to me” Minerva’s words freeze the passageway to my lungs.

“What do you mean?” I sputter through the bitter cold.

“What was happening in your mind when I came to get you?”

“I…” Hanging my head I push the dirt around with my bare feet. The words are on the tip of my tongue bouncing up and down on the cracking surface begging to be told. Pleading with me to let their meaning free in order to plague the mind of another.

Minerva’s hand clasps around my wrist like a shackle before dragging me to the side of Azkaban.

“Why did we move?” I ask as I twist my wrist in her grasp.

Her eyes are like an unforgivable curse ricocheting through my body before they take control of my mind leaving me exposed.

“There has to be a minimum of two people when you are brought out of your cell just in case something goes wrong. There is usually at least one impartial auror unless the ministry cannot spare an auror when you are scheduled to be let out. Now talk to me.”

“Why am I let out and the other prisoners forced to stay in their cells?”

“That’s not important at the moment. I need you to tell me what was happening,” Her voice is a stone wall blocking out any emotion I could possibly detect.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

“You need to talk to someone Bellatrix, and I am offering to listen.”

Frowning I look away from her. “I don’t remember.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

The tears sting as they leak into the cracks of my dry, tired eyes. A sob expands in my throat protecting me from the words that could escape, and a scream of raging frustration threatens to explode in my ribcage. Blackness crowds my vision. I shake my head violently knowing the darkness only unleashes the demons possessing me onto others. Biting my lip I wait until the metallic liquid gushes from beneath my teeth.

“What happened to you, Bella?” Minerva’s tone is kinder than before.

I meet her eyes and the first tears claw their way over my lashes and sink their teeth into my skin. Opening my mouth my words come out as a strangled cry.

“He, he made me…” I choke out. “He made me…”

I claw at the wall behind me searching for something stable as my body begins to quake. It is not long before pieces of be begin to break off and I crumble to the ground.

Minerva places a strong hand on my shoulder. “I’m here.”

“He…he…I…”

“Don’t tell me, Bella. Not yet. “

Relief drowns me. I try to claw my way to the surface, but it overpowers me as it mixes with my agony. My legs snap beneath the weight and the stone wall of Azkaban shreds my back as I begin to fall to the ground.

Frantically I reach out and my hand curls around the velvet fabric of Minerva’s robe. I cling to the cloth tightly as it threatens to rip and let me sink to the bottom of my emotions.

Opening my eyes I catch a glimpse of a blurry face. Minerva slides her arm around my back. The action is firm and reassuring. Tentatively I grab onto her shoulder and force myself into her embrace.

An animalistic cry is wretched from my lips as my body trembles and my memories crowd into my tears and force their way out of the skeleton that has replaced me.

Minerva tightens her hold on me. Her hand soothingly travels back and forth on my back as she patiently waits out the storm.

My vision is overpowered with images of my daughter and images of the Dark Lord’s face peeling back to reveal a young Tom Riddle. Hermione skirts her way into the picture before she is hit by a green light and her lifeless body crumples. The images distort and disappear as my mind is filled with a high pitched cackle.

A weigh smashes into my brain. My eyes dart open and I breathe deeply before letting go of Minerva.

She holds me at arm’s length and examines me. The only exterior traces of my flirtation with insanity are the tears that remain firmly planted in my flesh like rose thorns.

Minerva sighs. “I have to go. I’ll be back to get you in a few hours.”

“Okay,” My voice grates through my throat and rips away the flesh on my tongue.

She pulls me into another hug before walking to the front of the prison and apparating.

Cautiously I walk on splintered limbs to the decaying tree and slide down its rotten trunk before turning my attention to the sea.

  
xx  
The treads of shoes crunch against the ground shaking me from my trance. Turning my head I discover Minerva. Standing off to the side behind her is Hermione.

Hermione’s delicate hand is gripping Minerva’s arm, and her other hand is holding a pensive tightly. I take a shaky breath at what the object implies.

Standing I push around the dirt with my toes. I’m uncertain of how to greet them. Hermione’s expression, though schooled to mask her emotions, has failed to extend the barricade to her eyes and there is a fear prominently dancing within them. Minerva’s expression, though kinder than earlier, is countered by her protective stance.

When they reach me I glance up. “Hi,” I say quietly as my eyes land on Hermione.

“Hi,” She replies at an equal volume. “I um, I brought this,” She says holding up the pensive, “If you still want to. We don’t have to.”

“No. I want to. Where do you want to…?”

“In your cell.”

“No, Hermione.” Minerva says sternly. Guilt pools in my feet and begins to fill my body before overflowing. The emotion is only intensified by the fact that Minerva knows what I have done.

Hermione turns to Minerva. “We have to Jones is already watching our every move.”

“He knows you have the pensive. You can go over to the corner of the building.”

“He can’t confirm what it’s for at the moment. This could ruin Bellatrix’s chances of a trial. Please, Minerva.”

“I can distract Jones.”

“Bellatrix will be okay, because she’ll be distracted. Won’t you, Bella?”

The hazel pools that pierce me are so loving and pleading me with trust that comes from unknown depths.

“Yeah. I’ll be fine.”

“I suppose,” Minerva says sighing.

“Thank you,” Hermione says as she leans into Minerva’s side. “You can stand right outside the cell if you want, but we need privacy for this.”

“I understand. But if I hear a single thing wrong even in the silence and I will come in.”

Hermione smiles lightly and kisses Minerva on the cheek in thanks. My skin heats as needles embed themselves in my skin due to the small display of affection.

Subtly I allow my eyes to flutter shut and I shake my head to rid myself of the sensation.

“Are you ready, Bella?”

Opening my eyes I smile weakly at Hermione and follow her and Minerva into Azkaban.  Hermione and Minerva effectively keep my mind occupied by informing me of the events taking place in the wizarding world. Hermione is telling me about her search for the Death Eater De Hoven when we reach my cell.

I follow Hermione in. Cautiously reaching out I grab her hand, but when our skin connects she jumps so I let go.

She sits on the floor and I sit next to her aware of the space between us.

“I thought that maybe you could use Legilimency to see things that you are curious about so that you’re less nervous for me to see your memories.”

“Okay,” I reply quietly. I take a moment to clear my mind before searching for Hermione’s. I can feel my magic strain against my body as it moves outward without the use of wand.

My mind collides with hers and I coax her to let down her barriers. Suddenly they disappear and the buzzing of a million thoughts and memories irritates my skull with pinpricks of sound.

Focusing on a stream of thoughts the image of Hermione sitting on the couch with her parents while Minerva hands Hermione her Hogwarts letter comes into view. Slowly I ease out of the memory not wanting to injure Hermione. I can hear a particularly clear stream of thought, which indicates recent events. Focusing I ease the memory into my mind and it swirls in my brain until I spin into the Minister of Magic’s office.

 Shacklebolt is sitting at his desk while Hermione towers over him. Static crackles before the sound sharply enters my mind. Hermione is begging Shacklebolt to release me from Azkaban. She hands him a list, but he tells her he can’t risk letting me out, but makes a deal to allow her to visit me.

The scene abruptly shifts. Hermione is sitting next to Ron on the floor of Andromeda’s sitting room. Teddy is roaming around on the floor babbling away. Hermione’s eyes are sunken behind dark circles and her frame is frailer than usual. Weasley puts his arm around her and she sinks into him.

“Do you reckon we ever stood a chance, ‘Mione? You know, if you never had feelings for Bellatrix.”

“I don’t know. Probably not.”

“Yeah I figured, but I still hoped.”

“Sorry.”

“Who would you, you know, want to be with if you didn’t like Bellatrix?”

Hermione faces Ron with a light blush tinting her cheeks. “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“No.” He replies with a goofy grin.

She nudges him, “You have to promise.”

“Okay, okay. I promise,” He responds pulling Hermione closer.

The fangs of the monster slithering beneath my skin clamp down on my barely beating heart.

“Well it would probably be in the future, but Minerva.”

The creature threatens to rupture my skin as it slithers beneath it. It licks the fire coursing through my veins, and whispers encouragement to release my rage as it coils around my throat.

“McGonagall! Blimey Hermione, how much longer where you going to wait before she turns to dust?”

“Ronald!”

“What? It’s true! She’s been teaching since before my mum and dad went to Hogwarts.”

“The aging process for magical people is slower. You know that!  Bloody hell! Why do you have to be such a git?”

“I was only joking,” Weasley replies as he raises his hands in surrender.

“I know,” Hermione responds.

The silence between them becomes charged as they stare at each other and a scream of rage threatens to shred my lungs.

Hermione tucks her head in the crook of Ron’s neck. I am wrenched from the scene.

I find myself in the library at the Black Manor. Hermione is sitting with a book in her lap. The room smells of wood and must, due to the fact that the fire place is being used for the first time in centuries. A closer look at Hermione reveals that she isn’t reading the book, but staring through it. Tears streak her delicate skin, and the red rim of her eyes enhances her hazel orbs.

I find myself again spinning through time.

This time I land between Hermione and Potter. Potter is berating Hermione for associating with me. Hermione’s arms are folded over her chest and lips drawn tight. The ire in her eyes promises pain to their target.

There is an explosion of yellow light and Potter is on his back. Hermione is wearing a shocked expression and the last hints of yellow seep into her skin. She crosses the room and kneels down next to Potter.

I am ripped from the memory and tossed into my cell. Hermione is begging me to let me help her. I watch my eyes lose focus before becoming void of all emotion. I observe how my arm snaps back and then rages forward to collide with Hermione’s cheekbone.

Her head snaps and she stumbles backward.

 I am placed in what I assume to be Minerva’s quarters. Minerva is writing at her desk and Hermione is lying in Minerva’s bed.

Minerva gets up and waves her hand extinguishing her desk light. She crosses the room and slides under the covers behind Hermione.

Hermione reaches out and drapes Minerva’s arm over her waist. Minerva moves closer before whispering something in Hermione’s ear.

My pulse tests the limits of my veins’ flexibility as it throbs through my body reaching out and stabbing me with daggers of rage.

Releasing Hermione’s memories I snap back into my cell.  Tears have snuck their way onto my face, cackling at their rebellion.

Hermione is staring at me with wide sorrowful eyes. “Bella, I…”

The world turns to black.

I can hear a manic screeching reverberate through the cell. An ear splitting voice screams “You filthy Mudblood! How dare you think you could trick me! I knew it! You unfaithful little WHORE!”

There is something warm and soft beneath my fingers. Nails are tearing at the flesh of my hand. There is a straggled plea in the distance. It is too faint to make out over the cackling.

I am suspended in time as I fly backward across the cell. Hitting the other wall the blackness recedes and I discover Minerva hovering in front of Hermione.

When Minerva turns a furious gaze on me I note the red handprint around Hermione’s neck.

I try to catch Hermione’s eye to silently apologize, but her focus remains on the floor as she gingerly places a hand around her neck.

Minerva wraps her arm around Hermione and leads her out of the cell.

“Minerva!” I cry.

She turns to me while ushering Hermione out of the entrance to this cage.

“All I need is a new book and it won’t happen again.”

“What you need Madame Lestrange is to ask for your trial,” She replies before leaving.

**

I stand outside. The wind whips my hair as I wait.

With the sound of approaching footsteps I turn toward my visitor.

“What would you like to speak to me about Madame Lestrange?”

“Bellatrix, Minister,” I correct as Shacklebolt comes to a stop in front of me.

 Staring him straight in the eye I state, “I want my trial.”

 

 

 


	18. Chapter 18

**Story:** When Everything Changed

**Summary:** Something inside begins to protest her actions causing Bellatrix to question herself and those around her. How will her world as she knows it be affected? BL/HG

**Rated:** M

**Disclaimer:**  J.K. Rowling owns everything. I am merely borrowing the characters to play my own little game with them.

**A/N: Though I have edited this more than once I am sure there are still mistakes. This is unbetaed and all mistakes are mine.**

**  
_____________________________________________________________________________________**

**Hermione’s POV**

I smile at Minerva as she hands me a tumbler of scotch and sits next to me on the couch. Taking a sip of the liquid I stare into the comforting flames of the fireplace.

Glancing over at Minerva I catch her watching me.

“What?” I ask quietly.

“Nothing, dear.” She replies in barely more than a whisper. “How are you feeling about tomorrow?”

Tucking my feet beneath me I begin to pick at my jeans. I think about the pain I’ve seen in Bellatrix’s eyes. The crazed fear she has displayed and calmness washes over me.

“Relieved.”

“Do you believe she has a chance?”

I nod my head. “Do you?”

I gaze into emerald orbs and discover a conflict rising there.  Unsaid words cling to the edges of her irises. Reaching out I take Minerva’s hand in mine.

“Do you?” I repeat.

“Yes,” Minerva whispers. She nods her head a few times before turning her attention to the fireplace.

The flames illuminate the thoughts in Minerva’s eyes. They caress her skin and highlight her cheekbones. I detect tears building a liquid barrier and clinging to her lashes.

“Hey,” I say quietly as I set my drink on the table. Sliding closer to Minerva I squeeze her hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she replies clearing her throat.

“Don’t lie to me.”

Minerva turns to face me. I take a shaky breath as her finger trails across the faint mark that remains on my neck.

I take her hand and move it from my neck. I kiss the soft skin on the back of it. “Talk to me, Minerva.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“I can’t, my dear”

“I don’t understand.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I just don’t see why you can’t talk to me.”

She turns me away from me and runs a finger beneath her eyes. 

I slide my arm around Minerva’s back and pull her into me.  I link my fingers together on her shoulder and rest my chin on her head.

“Stop.” Minerva pushes my arm away with a shaky hand.

“Minerva, what…”

“I’m sorry. Please, I need you to stop.”

I move away from Minerva. “I was just trying to help.”

“I know, my love.” Minerva closes her eyes and places her fingers over her lips.

“You’re scaring me.”

“Give me a moment.”

Minerva’s shoulders quake and she presses her eyes together tighter.

I bite my lip debating whether or not I should comfort Minerva before returning to her side and pulling her into me.

She struggles against me pushing on my arms; yet, she clutches to the cloth of my shirt pulling my arms into her at the same time. When I manage to coax her into resting her head on my shoulder she lets go of my shirt and slides her hand up my arm causing me to tighten my grip.

 Minerva remains tense in my arms. Her body doesn’t shake, and she is silent. Her tears wet my sleeve.

I tell her that whatever is bothering her will be okay. I whisper hopeful promises of happier times and unexplored adventures we have yet to create. The words float in the air between us not quite entering her as if attempting to protect her from an uncertain future.

Minerva begins to mold her body against mine as she takes sharp, deep breaths.

Cautiously I break the silence, “Minerva?”

She squeezes my arm, but doesn’t respond.

“You can tell me anything. You know that right?”

“Not this,” She whispers hoarsely.

“Why not?”

“Because it would change everything.”

“What do you mean?”

She doesn’t answer but melts further into me. I pull Minerva as tightly as I can into my body. One hand trails through her hair, while my other arm remains firmly around her.

The silence that follows blankets us with a loving caress. It keeps us calm with its sweet touches and forces away the murmuring of the night.

Minerva sighs against my neck and her breath flutters cautiously against my skin.

I lean back against the arm rest and gaze into the embers that liter the fireplace grate. In the distance a voice faintly whispers the truth. Squeezing Minerva tightly I resign to the fact that after tonight nothing will ever be the same.

***

The quill scratches the parchment as I sign my name on the document that will magically bind any information revealed in the trial from being unleashed into the outside world. The press have already eagerly assembled in the lobby of the Ministry.

Scanning the dungeon I note how the differences in opinions of the audience are divided between sides of the room.

However, I observe one exception. Harry is sitting to Ron’s left on the ‘Releasing Bellatrix from Azkaban’ side of the room. This is per request of Shacklebolt who pulled us aside yesterday and reinforced how crucial it is for the people attending the trial to see the Golden Trio seated together to create a sense of safety.

As I make my way over to Harry and Ron I catch Neville’s eye. He is seated on the opposite side of the room with his grandmother. I wave at him weakly and he responds with a hurt smile. That smile runs a blade vertically down my chest and abdomen gutting me and spilling my guilt soaked intestines onto the floor. The knowledge that Neville is aware of my hopes for this trial when Bellatrix is the reason he grew up without his parents lingers like dulled razors between us.

Taking a seat between Minerva and Harry on the bench I watch the Weasley’s enter the courtroom. Mrs. and Mr. Weasley wave at Ron, Harry and I as they attempt to find seats close to us.  Bill, Charlie, Ginny, George, and Percy follow their parents. I watch them glance at me with sympathy and wonder just how much Mrs. Weasley told them and how much she knows.

I sense Minerva’s eyes roaming the contours of my face: searching. Without removing my eyes from the entrance I seek out her hand with my own. She places them between us, hidden from view, before squeezing my hand lightly and letting go. She rests her hand next to mine on the bench. Close enough to feel the heat of her skin but far enough away not to touch. The warmth curls around my heart in a reassuring embrace.

 The Malfoys enter the courtroom. To my surprise Narcissa nods at me in acknowledgement. I softly smile at her before turning my attention to Ron who has leaned forward to talk to me.

As soon as our eyes meet I can detect his worry.  Silently he mouths ‘How you holding up?’

A weak smile curls the corner of my lips and I shrug.

The delectate words being exchanged between attendants muffle as the Wizengamot files into the front of the dungeon. Shacklebolt is last to take his seat behind the podium.

“Today,” Shacklebolt says with a stern voice capturing everyone’s attention, “we are to decide the fate of the notorious Death Eater, Bellatrix Lestrange. But before we can decide on what her sentence will be we will hear the testimonies of the few that have spoken to Madame Lestrange since the fall of the Dark Lord.”

As he finishes the doors to the courtroom burst open. All eyes snap down as Bellatrix is dragged into the courtroom by two dementors. Their clammy, bony hands protrude from beneath their robes and clutch Bellatrix’s bare arms. A chill blankets the room. I focus on the heat still radiating from Minerva’s hand. Bellatrix is placed in a chair in the center of the room. Chains slither around her wrists and ankles. I can see them pinch her fragile skin before they stop moving.

Bellatrix is sitting regally in the chair: a haunting sneer is placed firmly on her face. Her eyes survey the surrounding crowd and the sneer turns into a manic grin.

The dementors are dismissed. Once they have exited the room I note the slight slump in Bellatrix’s shoulders and the falter of her haughty demeanor.

She continues to watch the room, but with more caution and a softer expression. Still that sneer refuses to leave her lips.

Her eyes skim over me:  never stopping and I crave her attention. I need her to acknowledge my presence to speak with me silently.

I turn my attention to her wrists. To the chains biting at her flesh. The pain bubbles like a finely brewed potion inside of me on the verge of boiling, yet waiting for the moment when the potion maker looks away to do so.

I can’t sense Bellatrix’s eyes on me. I know she continues to skip over me. The red marks on her skin are darkening. They  are angry and taunt me. Dare me to do something to gain the attention of the one person in the room that would dare ignore me in this situation.

I stand. I can hear Minerva and Ron whisper my name in a unison question.

“Minister,” I say in and overconfident tone.

“Miss Granger?” Shacklebolt asks kindly but I can sense the warning in his voice. Bellatrix’s future is teetering on a fine line and one wrong move from me could leave a grave negative impact on the outcome.

“I would like to request, on the behalf of Madame Lestrange, that the chains be removed. She poses no threat to the Wizengamot or the audience.” Bellatrix gazes straight ahead refusing to acknowledge me. A silent scream shreds the lining of my throat; threatening to burst through the muscle and tissue of my neck and project throughout the room.

“The request will be taken into consideration as the trial progresses. Please be seated, Miss Granger.” Shacklebolt states before continuing. “Madame Lestrange, you have been in the past charged with willingly participating as a Death Eater in the torture of Frank and Alice Longbottom by use of the Cruciatus Curse. Today the charges against you are: the murder of Sirius Black, whose name has been cleared, the torture of Miss Hermione Granger, and holding captive Griphook the Goblin, Miss Luna Lovegood, Mr. Garrick Ollivander, Mr. Harry Potter, and Mr. Ronald Weasley; along murdering 13 plus other wizard and witches and countless other tortures during Voldemort’s reign. How do you plead?”

“Guilty,” She states. Her voice challenges the room, yet wavers with a fragility that has yet to be seen by the majority of the audience from Bellatrix Lestrange. “On all accounts but one.”

“Which is?” One of the Wizengamot members asks.

“The torture of Hermione Granger.”

Rapid whispering breaks out on one side of the room.

“Miss Granger, would you care to be the first witness?” Shacklebolt asks before banging his gavel to ensure silence.

“It would be my pleasure.” I respond.  I stand and make my way down to the center of the court room where a stool has appeared next to Bellatrix. As I do Shacklebolt’s voice rings over the room.

“What you are about to see are the memories of Hermione Jean Granger on the night she, Mr. Weasley, and Mr. Potter were brought to the Malfoy Manor. After this memory is revealed the Wizengamot has the right to question Miss Granger about the events of that night. This is the procedure that will be used for all memories involved in this hearing.”

Shacklebolt flicks his wand and a pensive appears in front of him. I glance over at Bellatrix who remains facing forward. I note her hand shaking on the arm of the chair. I restrain myself from reaching out and grabbing it. Having already revealed a favorable leaning toward Bellatrix with the request of the removal of her chains I believe it would be unwise of me.

Shacklebolt waves his hand over the pensive and the memory rises from the bowl and begins to play as if it is a muggle film on a projector. It is in a third person perspective and I watch the struggle in eyes of the memory Bellatrix.

When the memory is finished the room remains silent.

“Miss Granger,” Shacklebolt’s voice cracks through the air. “When you were in the Malfoy Manor did you feel as if your life was in danger when in the hands of Madame Lestrange?”

“At first I did,” I reply. “Before I realized that Bellatrix had no intention of harming me. After that I trusted her to get me out of the situation safely.”

“And your faith never wavered?” A mousy looking witch in the back asks. “Not even when she instructed Greyback to dispose of you?”

“It did. However, I didn’t have many other options. In the moment of chaos when Bellatrix grabbed me, as you saw, Bellatrix reassured me of her actions, and I knew my only chance of surviving was to trust her.”

“But in the end she threw you under a falling chandelier,” A wizard on my left states.

“I realize it appears so in the memory, but Madame Lestrange actually tried to take me with her when she lunged out of the way.”

“Then why remain under the chandelier?” The same wizard asks.

“She had just saved my life. I returned the favor by not allowing the other Death Eaters to discover she had aided in our escape.”

The process continues. I watch along with the audience as memories of Bellatrix and I spending time together when she was in hiding, the day she saved Teddy, the day we spent time in Minerva’s quarters together, and her time in Azkaban is revealed. The last being the day she strangled me.

In the moment her hands went around my throat gasps rang through the courtroom. The memory ended with Minerva blasting Bellatrix into the wall and leading me out of the cell.

“Miss Granger, what would you like the outcome of this trail to be?” Asks a long faced witch to my right.

“I would like Madam Lestrange to be reintegrated into society,” I state as I glance at Bellatrix; who’s focus has not wavered from the front of the room during my entire testimony. I watch the gulp of air she takes move down her throat.

“I’m sorry. Could you repeat the question?” I ask when I realize I’ve lost focus.

“Why do you feel this is best for Madame Lestrange?”

“Because I believed she’s changed.  And she deserves a second chance.”

The murmur of the crowd hammer nails into my ears.

“Silence,” Shacklebolt says. “Thank you, Ms. Granger. I believe that is all unless there are any more questions.”

When no one speaks I stand up hoping to catch Bellatrix’s attention. I pause for a moment when I hear the rustling of her of the thin cloth she is draped in.

Glancing over my shoulder all I can see is the back of the chair.

“Good luck, Bella.” I whisper before returning to my seat.

Minerva is called to testify next.

I observe the two women as Minerva’s memories flicker before the crowd. Minerva sits regally on the stool somehow still managing to look elegant. Bellatrix turns her head to look at Minerva, who ignores her. I can see longing in Bellatrix’s eyes, but for what I am uncertain. She returns her focus to the front of the room.

My attention is pulled to Minerva’s memories as I watch her discover where Bellatrix hit me. I see the fury mirrored on Minerva’s face as she watches her own memory.

The air in the room is heavy.

The remainder of Minerva’s memories seem to stretch on. Each more painful than the next as we are forced to watch Bellatrix descend into madness, Minerva  be gnawed on by fury, and me crushed by the weight of it all.

I turn my head and close my eyes unable to watch. I sense Harry shift next to me.

Opening my eyes I find him watching me. His eyes are stormy and unreadable. I bite my lip and then break our connection.

I listen to the Wizengamot question Minerva. Her tone is steady and confident. It wraps itself around me in a blanket of reassurance.

“Professor McGonagall,” Shacklebolt says. “You have had the opportunity to work closely with Bellatrix over the past year. In your opinion should Bellatrix be reintegrated into society?”

Minerva turns her head and her eyes meet mine.

“Yes,” She states.

A chill coils up my spine and I can sense the heaviness of the air lifting off my chest. However, my heart clenches unpleasantly.

“Thank you. That is all.” Shacklebolt states.

Minerva sits next to me. I place my hand on the bench next to her.  She clasps her hands in her lap. My stomach feels as if it has just had an unfortunate encounter with a bludger.

I observe as Tonks,  Andromeda, Ron, Narcissa, Mrs. Weasley, and the aurors that watched Bellatrix outside of Azkaban are called up individually. My leg bounces and I bite my nails as I listen.

Minerva gently places her hand on my knee after ten minutes to stop the bouncing. I wonder if her hand was even there because as soon as my brain and body get the chance process what is happening the gentle weight on my leg was gone.

“Madame Lestrange,” Shacklebolt says after Jones takes his seat, “Do you have anything you wish to say before we vote.”

“No.”

“All right. All in favor of Madame Lestrange returning to Azkaban,” Shacklebolt announces.

I bite my lip.

I flinch when Harry takes my hand in his own, before relaxing. The familiar warmth of his touch soothes the edges of my nerves. I lean into him. I’ve missed this.

The Wizengamot members in favor of Bellatrix’s return to Azkaban raise their hands. Shacklebolt holds up his wand and the number 48 forms itself in the air for everyone to see. This is the number of hands raised.

I squeeze Harry’s hand tighter.  I can feel my lungs freely expand in my chest.

“Harry, this means…”

“All in favor of Madame Lestrange’s reintegration into society.”

The hands go up and the number 52 rockets into the air.

I let out a breathy laugh. “She’s free,” I whisper into roars of anger and relief.

“Silence!” says Shacklebolt. His voice rings out over the dungeon.

“Congratulations, Madame Lestrange. It has been predetermined that you will spend two years in the Muggle world without any contact with Wizarding community and wandless. You will be monitored by aurors,  not only to make sure you are fully carrying out your punishment, but for your own safety. After you have completed your two years you are allowed back into our world. It has been demanded for the next ten years after that you remain wandless as the Wizarding community readjusts itself to your presence among them. After you have proven yourself a stable, vital member of our community you will be allowed to have a wand. In the period of time you are wandless in our world you are to be accompanied by a witch or wizard at all times to ensure your safety. The amount of time involved in your sentence is subject to change depending on your behavior.”

Shacklebolt announces that the trial is over and asks Jones and Harry to escort Bellatrix back to his office.  He asks, Minerva, Tonks, Andromeda, Narcissa, and I to follow him.

Everyone else has agreed to meet at Andromeda’s for dinner.

We pass Jones and Harry while they guard the door to the minister’s office as we enter. When I pass Harry I reach out and squeeze his hand. Our eyes meet and he sends a small smile my way.

“We’ll talk,” I say to him. My lips curl at the edges. Tugged up by the relief of his return to my life. That it is real and not just imaged due to the stress of the trial.

Stepping into the office I discover Andromeda has Bellatrix locked in an embrace. After a few seconds Bellatrix attempts to pry her sister off of her. When she does Andromeda is replaced by Narcissa. Narcissa is much easier to remove from Bellatrix than Dromeda was. Tonks gives her aunt a quick hug.

Bellatrix won’t meet my eye.

I note her glancing at Minerva cautiously. The longing still lingering in her dark orbs. Now that I can see it closely I can decipher the need of acknowledgement and approval from Minerva that leaves Bellatrix mute.

I turn to Minerva who is standing in the corner of the room. When her emerald eyes find mine I try to silently plead with her to acknowledge Bellatrix. I can see her responding defiance, but finally she sighs and approaches Bellatrix.

“Minerva, I’m so…” Bellatrix tries to say.

“Good luck, Bellatrix.” Minerva replies sharply. Her tone warns Bellatrix that this is not the time that not everything is right now that she is free. I can hear this in Minerva’s unspoken words and I know the only other person that might be able to is Bellatrix. To everyone this is Professor McGonagall being Professor McGonagall.

Minerva pulls Bellatrix into a brief hug.

She comes and stands next to me. I tug on the sleeve of Minerva’s robe in thanks. Her hand brushes against mine.

Bellatrix still won’t look at me and the silence in the room is stiff and full of questions.

“Are you ready, Bellatrix?” Shacklebolt asks as he enters his office. Harry and Jones accompany him in.

“Yes.”

“Good. The ministry has secured you a place to live, a muggle job, a bank account, and muggle money for the first week in order to purchase food. Jones and I will escort you there. There is already and auror set up at their post near your flat to keep an eye on you.”

“Okay,” Bellatrix responds quietly. Her eyes have remained on the floor.

“Have you said your goodbyes?” Shacklebolt asks.

Bellatrix nods.

Shacklebolt crosses the room and grabs the floo powder from the mantle.

“Bellatrix, you first.” He says. “It’s been set up so all you have to say is ‘my flat.’ Wouldn’t want you to have secret visitors now would we? We know how your friends and family are about abiding the law,” Shacklebolt says lightheartedly.

Bellatrix steps into the fire and shard of glass tears along my heart before slashing my lungs.

“Bella,” I call out.

She looks up. Our eyes meet and I can feel tears gathering on my eyelashes. She didn’t hug me. I didn’t say goodbye. She will be gone for two years.

Sadness curls her lips into a small smile. Her eyes mirror the thoughts running through my mind.

I smile back at her.

"My flat," Bellatrix disappears.

***

“I can’t forgive her, but I miss you. I still want to be your friend,” Harry says as he helps me float tables into the yard at Dromeda’s.

“Okay.” I respond. My mind is still lingering on Bellatrix’s face. It repeatedly caresses the sad smile she gave me before she left.

“Hermione watch out!” Harry yells. He jumps aside as a table I’m moving flies in his direction. Snapping back to focus I guide it away from him.

“Sorry. Hey do you know if Minerva is here?”

“So that’s it?” Hurt laces Harry’s voice.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m trying to talk to you and you’re done with me. I thought this was important.”

I sigh. “I’m sorry, Harry. It is important.” I set the table down. “It really is. I’m just distracted by the ruling.”

“But it was good. Bellatrix is free.”

“I know. I’m just being selfish.”

“What do you mean?” He asks.

“I was just hoping this would mean I would get to spend time with her.” I say. I bite my lip and face the gentle breeze that brushes my hair back as it passes.

“Oh.”

“I’ve missed you too,” I say.

“You shouldn’t have. I was a real git.”

“I know.”

“Ouch,” Harry says. His playful tone makes me smile.

“It’s the truth.”

“I know. I think I saw Professor McGonagall in the kitchen helping Dromeda.” He informs me.

“Thanks.”

“No problem, ‘Mione.”

I pull Harry into a hug. We stumble a little and laugh. Kissing him on the cheek I let him know I am going to find Minerva.

***

“You don’t seem as thrilled as everyone else, dear” Minerva says.

I am propped up against the tree by the woods staring at the mixture of pink, gold, and purple in the sky. I feel the weight shift in my glass as I swirl the scotch around in it.

Glancing up at Minerva I smile softly at her and pat the ground next to me.

“I’m afraid I can no longer sit on the ground if I want to get back up. Old age does that.”

“We can go somewhere else,” I reply in a hushed tone. “I was just enjoying the quiet before George and Ron start the fireworks.”

Minerva pulls her wand out of her robes and flicks her wrist. Two emerald green Victorian armchairs appear beneath the tree.

“Not as appealing as the ones Albus used to make, but they will have to do.”

“They suit you.” I reply as I stand up.

Taking the left chair I hold my glass out to Minerva. “Want some?”

“Well since you’re offering I suppose I can’t say no,” She responds before taking a sip.

“What are you doing out here?” I ask.

“Looking for you.”

“How romantic,” I say.

Minerva doesn’t respond. Instead she takes another sip of my scotch before handing it back to me.

“I had no idea you felt that way about me, my dear.” She finally responds.

“What? I…no…I…” Fire is liking my cheeks. I lean my face against to cool wooden frame of the chair for a moment as I try to compose myself.

Minerva chuckles quietly.

I glance over at her to find a mischievous sparkle in her eyes.

“I’m just teasing you, Hermione. You should have seen how flustered you were.”

“You’re the worst,” I say and nudge Minerva’s arm.

She tangles my fingers with hers before I have the chance to pull away.

“Perhaps I am.”

“Don’t say that.” I whisper.

“Bellatrix will be all right, Hermione.”

“I know,” I say.

“Then what’s upsetting you?” Minerva asks.

“I guess I was hoping that when this trial was over everything would be over and Bellatrix could start again.”

“Surely you understand why that’s not happening.”

“I do.”

“Hey, Hermione!” Ron calls from the door.

“Yes, Ronald?” I reply.

“Don’t call me that anymore. You’re not my girlfriend anymore.”

“What is with everyone tonight and romance,” I mumble to myself. Minerva chuckles.

I peer around the back of the chair at Ron.

“What is it?”

“We’re going to have a quidditch match at Mum and Dad’s tomorrow. You in?”

“You know I don’t like flying.”

“Please, we need one more person,” He whines.

“You should do it. It will be fun,” Minerva says.

“Sure. Why not.” I reply.

“Thanks, ‘Mione. You’re the best!”

“You better remember that.” I say.

“I will!”

He reenters the house and I can hear him yelling to Harry that I’m going to join. I roll my eyes.

“You know Bellatrix will be back sooner than you know.” Minerva says as she squeezes my hand.

“Yeah, I guess.”

“And when she comes back she will have the chance to start over. To prove herself to the community. And you will have a chance to start over. The two of you that is.”

Staring at the majestic sky I focus on Minerva’s hand in mine. How soft her skin is. How her warmth spreads up my arm. The way the lines of our palms are pressed tightly together connecting our life lines.

“Maybe we will,” I say.

Minerva’s touch is safe. It charges at my demons with a sword drawn and unrelenting stamina . I don’t want to let go of her and return to the house.

Maybe in a few minutes.

Maybe I can start over with Bellatrix.

Maybe one day life will start making sense again.

I squeeze Minerva’s hand and close my eyes.

* * *

A/N: Hey guys! I'm back. Sorry it took so long; life has been crazy. In a good way. But I'm excited to be working on this again. I just wanted you to tell you not to fear the lack of Bellamione that will inevitably occur in this story since Hermione and Bella are going to be separated for two years without contact. The good news is in this story that will only be two chapters. I plan on showing snippets of their lives during that time period, which hopefully will bring some lightheartedness to the story. Especially with Bella trying to figure out how to live in the muggle world. I hope to have my next chapter out soon but the end of the semester is rapidly approaching so I can make no promises.

A/N 2: I know that this story appears to be diverging from Bellamione relationship wise on Hermione's end at the moment. This is a Bellamione story and that will be the final relationship outcome. You just have to stick with me. Sometimes my other ships like to cameo in my stories, but I will get back on track!


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